Harry Potter and the Hollow Kingdom
by grimchaos
Summary: Recently orphaned, Harry has inherited a property on the strange and mysterious Hollow Hill. At first all seems well, but Harry starts feeling eyes on him at night. They follow him through the woods, can see him in the dark, and seem to want something. But are these eyes all Harry needs to worry about? Extreme AU, Slash, LVTR/HP
1. Chapter 1

**AN** : Prompted by Harry Potter and the (insert favorite book here). While Harry Potter and the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows would have been funny, I had to go with a long time favorite of mine, Hollow Kingdom by Clare Dunkle.

 **Important!** This story features mythical races that are very different from the Harry Potter concepts for them. Don't let the names of the races skew your thoughts on how characters look. Most people will remain similar to their HP!Cannon appearance, but not all. If there is a significant difference in appearance it will be described in the story.

 **Warnings:** Extreme AU, OOCness, Potential for odd pairings, Slash (potential for M but could forever remain T. Depends on the wants of the readers and whether or not I can write an M scene.)

 **Pairings:** Main is LVTR/HP, Secondary and mainly implied LL/NL, Many others I will just choose cannon couples should I need a couple though if you leave a review with a pairing, I might show it happening in the background or use it for a needed couple. A few slash couples are okay though a majority have to be het as reproduction is a big point of the original work.

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"It's so nice to see new faces at Hallow Hill, isn't it, Padma?"

Parvati Patil beamed across the dinner table at her great-niece and nephew. Harry gave a small smile and Luna smiled dreamily back. The two were grateful to find a friendly face at the end of their journey. It had been a hard two months. Their parents had died suddenly. By scrupulously legal tradition, their house and lands near Coventry now belonged to their father's nephew, the next adult male relative, and this man had refused to become their guardian. The Hallow Hill estate belonged to Harry from his late mother, but she had never visited it. It had been rented to another branch of the family for generations. Now Harry and his adopted sister were coming home to land and relatives they had never seen. Dolores Umbridge, an unmarried cousin of their mother's, had become their legal guardian, and the two great-aunts, Padma and Parvati, had agreed to raise the siblings.

Excited and exhausted, Harry and Luna tried to eat their meal. They had arrived only minutes before. Days of bouncing along in a carriage, nervous and bored, had carried them from their father's tame green meadows to this remote country. Last night they had stayed in a little village on the shore of Hollow Lake. The innkeeper had pointed across the great oval lake to the forested hills beyond. A tall jut of land faced them on the other side, and cliffs and bluffs tumbled haphazardly down to the smooth surface of the water.

"That's Hallow Hill land, son," he had said to Harry. "The tall rocks there, that's the Hill itself. But it'll take you all morning to get around the lake and the forest. No roads go through the woods by the Hill. They'd not dare to put a road there." My land, thought Harry in surprise. He hadn't expected it to be so wild.

"And what a handsome young man you are," Aunt Parvati said to Harry. "You favor your mother, doesn't he, Padma? She was slender and green-eyed, too, such a graceful woman. She had the pick of the men in her day. Of course your father was quite the charmer himself. You definitely have his hair."

Harry tried to smile at these kind remarks, but he found them rather embarrassing. He didn't think of himself as attractive, although he knew his father and mother had both been. In fact, Harry was uncommonly attractive. His messy black hair formed small curls around his face, and he had an intelligence and charm unusual for his age. Perhaps this was because he had spent so much time with his mother. That devoted and caring woman had lavished hours each day on his education. He saw a strength in her gentle nature that he openly admired, and this strength had carried the quiet Harry bravely through the last two months without his parents.

Dainty and quiet, Padma Patil didn't smile as often as her sister Parvati, but this didn't mean she was ill-tempered. She studied the embarrassed Harry, noting his fair skin and large, bright green eyes.

"Now, you know Harry's mother was bright, Parvati, with that red hair. I think you're like your mother in your build, though; such a little thing she was." Harry sighed. He hated being so short. No one but his parents and sister seemed to take him seriously.

"You obviously favor your birth-parents, dear." Aunt Parvati had turned to Luna. The younger sister smiled by way of answer. Thin and blond, Luna certainly possessed her brother's strength of will, but she didn't always use it quite as sensibly. Her usually dreamy face was very expressive, and her conduct often unexpected. Lively, intelligent, and quite immature, she usually burst out with declarations of imaginary creatures and what they were doing.

"Hallow means 'holy,' doesn't it?" asked Luna. "Why is this place called Hallow Hill? Is there a church nearby?"

"Oh, Dolores can tell you about that," Aunt Parvati said. "Dolores's quite a scholar, you know. She's writing a book of family history, all about Hallow Hill."

Their legal guardian was a chubby, rather toad like woman with a penchant for wearing pink. Luna kept staring at her because of the nargles she claimed always surrounding her. Except for the barest pleasantries, she had been silent since their arrival. She had brought a book to the table and was reading it as she ate. Now she raised her pale eyes from the pages and glanced dismissively at Luna.

"I don't suppose someone of your age and breeding is going to sit through a linguistic analysis," she remarked. Harry saw his sister's face darken and spoke quickly to prevent a catastrophe.

"We'd like to hear about Hallow Hill's name," he protested with a slight smile. "Place-name etymology is so fascinating. The words come out of Old English, don't they, so the name can't date back to the Roman times, but it could certainly predate the Norman Conquest."

Dolores Umbridge fixed Harry with a critical stare. He noticed a bit of food in her teeth and hoped his sister wouldn't mention it.

"So we've read a book or two," she commented overly sweetly. "Yes, the word hallow is Old English, but we don't know that hallow, or holy, is what was intended at all. Perhaps hollow is what was meant. Some early documents call the bald peak behind this house Hollow Hill, and there certainly are caves throughout the area. And 'Hollow Lake' may just be a short way of saying the 'lake by Hollow Hill.'

"However, we aren't even positive that is the original Hallow Hill. Near the Lodge house is a smaller hill with a flat, circular crown, and around this crown is a double circle of ancient oak trees. The site was obviously an important druidic center. There are those who say that is the real Hallow Hill, but probably to the early inhabitants this whole region was sacred. It has never been mined, the forests haven't been logged, and the locals retain to this day a tremendous superstitious lore about the area. Calling something hallow for hundreds of years has a way of making people treat it as holy whether it really is or not." She picked up her book again. "It's a fascinating human phenomenon, the tenacious preservation of ignorance," she remarked caustically and ignored the conversation around her for the remainder of the meal.

In another half hour, Luna and Harry found themselves back out in the sunshine, facing another carriage ride. Their guardian lived in this large estate house, the Hall, but the siblings were not to live here with her. They were to go on to the smaller house, the Lodge, where their great-aunts lived.

The Hall faced a large, open green that was not in the least interesting. It contained rigidly geometric pebbled walks, square garden beds, and bench seats set primly by the straight, tree-lined borders. But the ground to the sides and back of the house began rising at once into small, tumbled hills, and through the windows of the dining room the siblings had seen tantalizing views of a shady terrace, moss-covered rock walls, and paths disappearing into the dim forest that reached down and enclosed the Hall on three sides. Harry and Luna were wild with delight at the thought of those secret paths winding through primeval woodland. They could hardly bear to climb into the carriage for the sedate jog over to the Lodge.

The ride proved more satisfying than they had expected. The gravel track passed the front of the Hall and rapidly left the depressing tidiness of the green behind. It skirted the very edge of the forest and rose and fell with the unevenness of the landscape, providing a view on the one side of windblown meadows full of wildflowers and on the other of those gloomy, green-dappled forest depths that they already longed to explore. The track passed through a grassy orchard as it climbed a steady slope, and the Lodge house stood before them, shaded by large, well-trimmed trees.

Harry and Luna stared up at the big white house. Luna was surprised by its size; hearing that she was to live in the "small Lodge house," she had expected to see a two-room hut. The Lodge had three stories, the top one peeking out through small dormer windows tucked under a steep gray roof. The front door was exactly in the middle, and all the tall windows up and down were perfectly matched and symmetrical. Over their heads and over the house swung the thick boughs of the great shade trees, casting an ever-changing net of shadow and sun on the ground below. Harry listened to the gentle rush of the wind whispering through leaves and branches. He felt it settle into his soul and fill some lonely place there.

Harry and Luna trailed through the house after their great-aunts and saw everything there was to see, from the kitchen by the back door to the upstairs bedrooms. Padma and Parvati had the two bedrooms on the left side of the upstairs hall, and the siblings were given ones on the right.

Harry's room faced the front. "We did think this would be a nice view for a young man like you," said Aunt Parvati.

Luna had the back bedroom. "You'll never believe how many storms we have here, dear," cautioned Aunt Padma. "Such wild country! If you wake in the night, my room is right across the hall. No need to dodge around the stairs when you're in a fright."

The next several days saw the siblings settle in and become a part of the rhythm of life at Hallow Hill. Some demands were placed on them, but they were free to roam their new surroundings for hours every day. It must be admitted that the two older women found their new charges quite exhausting. Whenever the siblings burst out the door with a picnic basket to go off on a day trip, it is hard to say who of the four felt most relieved.

It took the siblings a week to find the druids' circle that their guardian had spoken of. They discovered it after supper one evening, quite close behind the Lodge. The forest path they were following began climbing a steep slope. As they looked upward, they saw an evenly planted row of ancient oaks set in thick green turf. In the gaps between they could see a further row of trees, but so massive were the specimens in this double ring that they could not see past the two rows together. The enormous trunks, wider than the two could span with their arms, formed a perfect barrier, protecting whatever lay beyond from careless eyes.

They approached this awesome barricade and slipped between the giant sentinels. The tops of these giant trees, so close together for so many ages, had grown into one dense, continuous ring. No sunlight pierced it to fall on the intruders beneath, and yet the green turf continued underfoot, right up to the great trunks.

Inside the ring, the broad crown of the hill was almost flat. They could not see beyond the trees either to the distant hills or to the woods outside. They were in a huge room walled by living plants. Above them, past the tangled branches of the oaks, stretched a perfect circle of darkening twilight sky about seventy feet across. The lush turf formed a dense, soft carpet underneath, and small white field lilies sprang above it on long, thin stalks.

Speechless, Harry and Luna stood and looked around. This was a silent place. No birds sang in the branches of the great trees, and Luna found no bugs crawling in the grass beneath. Slowly they wandered to the very middle of the twilit circle and dropped down onto the inviting ground.

"Do you think the druids built this place?" asked Luna.

"No." Harry knew that this was no ruined monument to a dead religion. The circle was alive and aware. It exerted a magical force that welcomed and comforted him, as if good people had arranged a place for his security and care.

"But if the druids didn't make it, who did?"

"I don't know, Luna," Harry said thoughtfully. "Perhaps our ancestors did. I feel so much more at home here than I do up at the Hall. And just imagine how the stars must look from here! Let's stay a little while longer and watch them come out."

As night fell on the tree circle, the stars shone in the round ceiling of sky over their heads. Harry gazed, enchanted, at the brilliant lights hanging above him. He had always had a deep love of the stars. He sometimes felt that if it hadn't been for them, he never could have stood the loss of his parents. As long as he had the stars, he would never be alone. Even when he wasn't looking at them, he could feel their gentle radiance in his mind. They had never seemed as beautiful as they did tonight. One by one they emerged until the ebony sky was full, and the glittering net shimmered over their heads.

"We'd better go back," warned Luna, thinking about what her worried aunts would say. They crossed to the enormous trees, now black in their own deep shadows, and slipped between them to find the forest path again. It took some time before they hit upon it in the meager, dappled starlight. As they walked slowly homeward in the darkness, Harry tried to remember the beauty of the stars, but a vague presence intruded on her thoughts. He began to peer into the shadows. He couldn't hear or see anyone, but he was sure someone was there. Harry was out in the late twilight as often as he was allowed, and he had never been afraid before, but now he held his sister's hand tightly.

"What's wrong with you?" demanded Luna. "You're pinching me. We're not lost, you know. I can find the way home."

Harry stared desperately back into the forest. "Luna, something's watching us!" he whispered.

"Oh?" asked Luna, very interested. "What? Where? Is it a Crumple-Horned Snorkack" She turned around and peered unsuccessfully into the deep gloom.

"I don't know," murmured her brother though he was pretty sure it wasn't that. "It followed us down the path. I can't see it, but it can see us. Can't you feel it?"

"No," replied Luna with a shrug. "It's probably just a blibbering humdinger. Come on, Harry, we'll get in trouble." And she towed her preoccupied brother across the Lodge lawn. At the door, Harry stopped and looked back. The heavy shadows under every tree seemed full of menace. Once he was in the house, the feeling left him, but it came back a little later as they talked in the parlor. The great-aunts never drew the heavy curtains. Harry stared suspiciously at one gauze-covered window after another. He even rose and looked out into the dark night, but there was nothing there that his eyes could see. After a few minutes of this restlessness, his great-aunts began to watch him in some surprise. Embarrassed, he excused himself and went up to bed.

Nighttime became an ordeal for Harry after this. Sometimes he would be free of the feeling until bedtime, when he would begin to pace and fret under the conviction that something was watching him. He, who had always loved the stars, began to avoid looking out the windows after dark. Even in his bedroom on the second floor, he would wake in the night, uneasy. He would lie as still as he could under the covers, peering around the room at the darkness, and he began to have exhausting nightmares. When Harry tried to explain his feeling to his great-aunts, they laughed at first and then looked puzzled. Hallow Hill was so remote that no one ever came or went across its grounds. The aunts never even locked the doors.

Padma watched Harry with concern and decided that both children needed more to do. They had been through a great deal, and they had too much time to dwell on it.

Padma began teaching the siblings practical skills, such as how to plan meals, keep household accounts, and manage servants. Over time, she and Parvati observed with satisfaction that Harry was settling down. It is true that Harry slept more soundly at night because he was busier during the day, but he continued to be haunted by the powerful feeling that something was watching him. He couldn't avoid it or ignore it, so he just kept his worry a secret from his aunts. He could tell that it did nothing but upset them.

As high summer came, Aunt Parvati took Harry to pay a call on his guardian. The call, he discovered, concerned him deeply. Padma wanted Dolores to take Harry into town for the winter season. It was time, she said, for the boy to be out in society. So much had to be arranged first. Harry's guardian would have to fulfill her responsibilities.

Umbridge didn't take the call at all well. She had no patience with townsfolk and parties. She didn't see any good reason why the important pursuits of the mature should be set aside to allow the young a chance to make fools of themselves. She paced up and down the room as she and Parvati argued. At one point Umbridge turned angrily on Harry himself.

"Are you tired of country life already?" she demanded. "You can't wait to go off skipping and galavanting with a whole bevy of brainless hooligans?" Harry wasn't in the least tired of country life, though he did find the thought of visiting the town a bit thrilling. He didn't say this to his angry guardian, but maybe she saw it in his face. If so, it did nothing to improve her temper.

After the unpleasant interview, Aunt Parvati hurried off to speak to Mrs. Figg, the housekeeper, leaving Harry to wander the Hall alone. This activity never failed to fill Harry with uneasiness. The Hall might belong to him, but it never seemed to want him. He was nothing but an intruder here.

Harry did what he often did when he was at the Hall and had time to himself. He went to the huge fireplace in the upstairs parlor to study the picture that hung above it. Two girls, both around thirteen years old, stood hand in hand before a forest landscape and looked out at him. One, black-haired and blue-eyed, had a red rose tucked into the waist of her old-fashioned dress. She met Harry's gaze as if she were about to tell a funny secret, and she looked as if she were trying not to giggle. The other, pale and brown-haired, gazed down at Harry with solemn green eyes. She did not smile. Perhaps she had learned already those lessons in life that make smiling difficult. Harry stared back at the brunette girl thoughtfully. He felt, as he always did, that there was something familiar about her.

"She looks very like you, don't you think?"

Dolores Umbridge stood a few feet behind Harry. She met his surprised glance a little sharply, but she walked up beside him to study the picture, hands behind her back. "I mean the one on the left, the brunette girl, Elizabeth. The resemblance is quite startling. I've thought so ever since you came here."

She paused, but Harry said nothing. He was staring at the picture. Of course! How had he not seen it before?

"Adele is the girl on the right, Dentwood Umbridge's child. Her father and my great-grandfather were brothers. I am the last of an old and proud family, Mister Potter."

Harry turned to her, thoroughly puzzled. She caught his confused look and nodded.

"Oh, yes, Elizabeth on the left is indeed your great-grandmother, but Elizabeth is related to no one in the family. For all we know, she might have fallen from the moon.

"The story goes that one spring night old Dentwood went walking with his daughter. Adele was about three then. Her mother had died soon after she was born, and old Dentwood doted on his only child. They paused at the druids' circle. Have you been there? A lovely spot at twilight. There Dentwood sat while his little daughter ran about picking flowers. He listened to her happy prattle. He fell to dreaming and thinking of his dead wife for a few minutes. And when he rose to call his daughter to him—what do you think he saw, Mister Potter? Not just his Adele. Now there were two little girls playing in the moonlight."

Harry felt his hair prickle and goose bumps rise on his arms. He couldn't say a word.

"And that's where Elizabeth came from," said Dolores with a shrug. "No one knows who she really was. No one even knew her name. She appeared just like a fairy child in the old tales, like the changeling that she was." Bitterness crept into her voice. "Because the two girls did not both survive, Mister Potter. When they were about sixteen, Adele died suddenly. No one knows how. But old Dentwood took Elizabeth and left Hallow Hill that very night, and neither of them ever came back.

"Dentwood Umbridge had adopted Elizabeth. Now she was all he had. When she died in childbirth, he took her son to raise. He left everything he had to that son when he died: Hallow Hill and all it contained. It went to a man who had never seen it, who could never appreciate it—who never even visited it once. My family, Dentwood Umbridge's brother's family, has leased the house ever since. Elizabeth's son was your grandfather, and Hallow Hill now belongs to you. Oh, we call each other cousins, Mister Potter," she said sweetly. "But you're no relation, really.

"I wonder how the founders of this house would feel if they could learn about this strange turn of events," she mused, "that their own flesh and blood would have to pay rent just to live in their own home. Pay rent to strangers, who didn't even care about the land. Yes," she added smugly, rubbing her hands, "I'm the last of a proud line."

I'm unwanted, thought Harry in a rush of despair. Unwanted, with no family left. And my land belongs to me almost through fraud. It's worse than having nothing at all. He couldn't say a word. He turned and left the room as quickly as he could, hurrying down the stairs. Dolores Umbridge watched his disorganized retreat, and her smile widened. Then she walked back to her study, whistling cheerfully.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Still not beta'd, but I went over this one a few more times to hopefully prevent errors/typos. That said, if you find anything please let me know! Big thanks to all my reviewers so far!

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The change in Harry was obvious to all, but no one understood it. Padma and Parvati were sure Harry's restless unhappiness was due to disappointment. Padma assured him that Dolores would give in to their arguments and take him into town, but Harry no longer wanted to go. In the aftermath of his guardian's horrible disclosure, leisure time in the town had gone quite out of his head.

Harry couldn't bear for his sister to find out that a previous adoption had caused issues for the family, so he said nothing about what he had learned, and tried to keep up a cheerful appearance. But keeping a secret from loved ones is a heavy burden, and now he was keeping two secrets. His nightmares were wearing him out, and his worried sister's constant questions were upsetting him. Padma noticed the pale cheeks and the dark shadows under her nephew's eyes. Lips tight, she called the doctor, but neither he nor Padma could find anything wrong. Between them, they dosed Harry with a variety of strong and well-meaning remedies that did no good at all.

The weather changed with the approaching end of summer, and clouds gathered over the Hill. One breathless afternoon nothing could bring relief to spirit or body. A gray haze hung in the air, too diffuse to be called clouds, but too thick to be called anything else. The sun shone through it as a brilliant white spot, and not a whisper of wind stirred. As evening came, no thunder rumbled in the hills, and no breeze sprang up to fan their clammy cheeks. The sun was leaving without a blaze of color. The thick haze just seemed to swallow it.

"Please, Aunt Padma, let us walk up in the hills and see if we can't find some cool wind somewhere," Harry begged. "I promise we'll come back before it gets dark." His aunt knew better than to let him go. Storms were sure to follow a day like this, even if they were taking their time building. But at last she gave consent, with all the conditions that approaching storms and nightfall demanded. They were to stay out of the woods, watch the sky, and come back at the first sign of bad weather.

The siblings headed down through the orchard, intent on the rocky meadows beyond. Harry was sure that if they climbed to the top of one of those grassy hills, they were bound to find a breeze, but at the top of their meadow, they found no breath stirring. The twilight was blending with the strange, close sky to form a dark brown haze, and the grass at their feet shone with a blond shimmer, as if the few rays of light left could not rise above the surface of the ground. Landmarks even a few yards away were melting into the brown gloom. Purple lightning bloomed across the dark sky before them.

"We'd better go back," sighed Harry.

They waded through the grass back down the hillside. Ahead of them in the thick dusk stood the stone wall of the meadow, but no gate appeared as they followed the meadow's edge.

"Wait, Luna, we must have gotten turned around. The gate's over there."

As their fence formed a corner with another stone fence, the gate appeared a few feet from them, metal gleaming in the dim light. They hurried over to it as another shining purple curtain shook across the sky, and swinging the gate shut, they sped up the little road before them.

A couple of minutes later, they stopped short in bewilderment. Another stone fence blocked their path. But how was this possible? They should be at the orchard by now. The brother and sister climbed a slight rise and looked around in all directions, trying to make out the shapes of trees that marked the orchard. Some faint light still remained. They could see each other's faces, pale in the deep dusk, but now they couldn't distinguish the black horizon from the black cloud banks. The lightning, undulating over the swollen masses of the clouds, was distant and too weak to see by. It gleamed silently, first in front and then behind them.

"This makes no sense," Harry said firmly, thinking over the way they had come. "All we had to do was walk back down the hill, through the gate, and up the orchard path. We've missed the gate somehow. There must be two in that meadow, and we hit on the other one. We'll follow the road back and look for the other gate out of that field, the one that takes us to the orchard."

With that plan in mind, they started off confidently, but now their light was gone. They found the little road again more by feel than by sight, but it didn't lead them to a gate. It turned and skirted along another stone wall, went through a gap, and lost itself altogether in the tall grass.

Again and again, Harry tried desperately to find the right path in the darkness, making them retrace their steps, but each time they did, they lost their old landmarks. Everything seemed to shift in the darkness around them. They had no idea which direction they faced or where home was. They could only tell that they were moving farther and farther from the shelter of the woodlands. The fields were flattening out, and stone fences were becoming rare.

There followed a time that was the worst in their lives. Method was gone, and landmarks were forgotten. They blundered along hand in hand through the dense blackness, following any path they crossed. Lightning seemed to be all around them now, and every white flash lit up a dreary landscape that held no familiar sight. One black field followed another. They might be one mile from home, or they might be ten. They certainly felt that they had walked a hundred.

As they stumbled along, footsore and exhausted, Luna suddenly tugged Harry around. Far across the fields, a light was shining. It wavered, winked out, and then showed up again. The siblings turned and scrambled toward it.

The light was a bonfire, blazing up in the darkness with a reddish glow, and figures moved back and forth before it. The fire lit up no house or barn. It appeared to be built in the middle of an empty field. Harry began to watch the figures by the fire uneasily. A hunting party? Gypsies? Vagabonds? Two men stood by the fire in long cloaks, their hoods pulled down over their faces. That spoke perhaps of hunting and of the stormy weather. Two or three short people moved about as well. Children? They had to be, but there was something odd about their shapes. As the siblings came nearer, Harry noticed four horses standing patiently beyond the fire. They appeared to be saddled. Hunting, then, but who would be out on such a night? He began to slow down, not so anxious to walk out of the darkness toward this strange group, but Luna, clutching Harry's hand, began to speed up. Warmth, light, people—these held no fears for her. She broke into a trot, pulling her brother behind her.

The party turned, sensing their approach. One of the short figures broke away from the firelit circle and bustled toward them.

"Oh, look! A young man and young lady right out of the storm! Do let Molly tell your fortune, dears."

"Gypsies!" whispered Luna excitedly as Molly hurried over. Harry stared down, astonished, at the shortest woman he had ever seen. Molly came up only a little past Harry's waist, but her small, stocky body did not appear to be hunched or twisted. The kind face was covered with freckles, and the brown eyes snapped and sparkled in the firelight. "Here," she said, capturing Harry's hand in her own surprisingly warm one, "come by the fire so I can see your handsome face."

As Harry followed Molly over to the bonfire, he glanced around nervously at the other members of the party. The two men stood nearby. Both were of average height with one slightly taller than the other, and thus both towered over Harry. Perhaps they had been conversing before, but now they were silent, watching Molly and the two siblings. They were draped in the black cloaks and hoods he had noticed earlier, and he could see nothing at all of their faces. This was prudent, given the coming storm, but it irked Harry to be seen and not to see. He wished he had a cloak of his own.

Molly, meanwhile, was peering intently at Harry's palm, turning it this way and that in the firelight. "Oh," she breathed. "Not every young man has a hand like this." Harry heard chuckles from the men. "But, dear," she said, ignoring them, "I see danger in this hand. Danger from someone very close to you." Now the men roared with laughter. "Be quiet, the two of you!" She whirled on them, still holding Harry fast. "I'm very serious!"

"What about me?" asked Luna eagerly, holding out her hand. "Do you see danger in my hand?" Molly took her small palm and turned it toward the fire.

"And such a lively thing you are, my dear!" she said to Luna. "Still a long way from marriage, aren't you? Well, that can't be helped, and one does grow, you know." Luna giggled over this odd speech, but Harry frowned. Hugging his arms about him, he stepped back from the firelight and eyed the two men warily. Now they had turned away and were talking again in quiet tones. He couldn't seem to catch what they were saying. The shorter one laughed at something the taller one said. Harry noticed the laugh sounded more similar to a dog barking than anything.

"Your palm speaks of sadness early but laughter late," Molly summed up to him grandly. "That's as good as a palm can say. You've a lovely, open nature, child."

"Oh, Harry, look!" Luna called excitedly. Harry turned to see a huge black tomcat approaching the fire. It rubbed its head against Luna's knee, its velvet coat shining in the light. Harry felt as if he couldn't breathe. Surely the cat was four times—no, six times—larger than the largest cat he'd ever seen!

"Isn't he beautiful?" squealed Luna, kneeling to tickle his chin. She loved animals of all descriptions, and her greatest regret was that the aunts wouldn't let her keep pets. The enormous cat was almost eye to eye with her. "Miaow?" he said plainly, and that is just what it sounded like: a _miaow_ said by a person imitating a cat. Harry shook his head and stared hard at the giant feline as if he were a puzzle Harry needed to solve. Something needed explaining here. Perhaps he was just dreaming?

"Oh, scat, Neville!" scolded Molly, waving her hands. "Such a nuisance you are, really! Go on!" The men walked away, heading toward the horses. A small boy came out of the shadows to throw wood on the fire. Harry thought he saw a beard on his face as he turned to look at him. Just a trick of the light, perhaps, or nerves. Enough of this! Luna stepped toward the shadows, coaxing, "Neville …" Harry caught her by the arm and pulled her around, turning back to Molly.

"Thank you so much for the fortunes," he began firmly, "but what-"

"Oh, I know all about it, dears!" Molly interrupted kindly. "A handsome lad and a pretty lass lost on a wild night, scared and tired, looking for the way home. You let little old Molly take care of that. We'll take you home, don't worry. Can't have you out in a storm like this, no. And the only question is, who will take whom? Let's see, where did they go? What's your name, dear, Harry? And who will take Harry home, eh?"

The taller man was leading his horse, a large gray hunter that any gentleman might be proud to own. Harry noticed that the man carried himself with dignity. When he spoke, his voice was rich and pleasant, naturally commanding. "Don't worry, Molly. I'll take your Harry home, of course." Amused and tolerant. Amused at what? Molly? Their silliness in getting lost?

"Oh, Tom!" breathed Molly delightedly, turning her twinkling brown eyes on him. Harry felt again that sense of unease. Why the delight and excitement over a simple, good-hearted gesture? The man brought his horse up to him wordlessly and turned to check the saddle. Even at this range, Harry could see nothing aside from the black cloak.

"W-wait!" he stammered. "You- you don't know where we live. How can you promise to take us home if you don't know where we live?" The man paused for a fraction of a second and then continued his work without looking up. He turned quickly, hoping to see a surprised look on Molly's face, hoping to find some answer to the riddle he was facing. But Luna blurted out dreamily, "Yes, we live in the Hallow Hill Lodge. Do you know where that is? Are we very far from there?"

"Of course we know where you live, dears," replied Molly with a chuckle. "Do you think anyone in this country doesn't know of the new blood coming to live with the two old ladies up in the forest? We've not got much to gossip over around here. Now, let's see. Tom, shouldn't Fenrir take the little one along? Such a receptive nature, such pluck."

"I think so," replied that amused, amiable voice. "It's probably for the best. So, ready?" And he turned to Harry, putting out his hands to boost him up onto his horse. Luna was stroking the horse's neck delightedly. He was far finer than any at the Hall.

"No!" said Harry, stepping back and treading on his sister's foot. "I- I prefer to walk, thank you." A silence swept across the little group.

The rider dropped his hands slowly and seemed to stare down at him from beneath his hood. He was almost a head taller than Harry was. "Really," he said distinctly, all amusement gone from that commanding voice. His manner was beyond cold. It was glacial.

Harry forced himself to hold up his head and face him as the blood rushed through his cheeks in a tingling wave. He wasn't sure why he had said what he did, but he would not be faced down now by strangers. Something was wrong here; he knew it. He refused to be a fool for them.

"Yes," he replied as calmly and formally as he could. "Please lead my sister and me to the Hallow Hill Lodge, where we live. If you do, we will be very grateful."

The hooded man continued to stare at him for a long moment. Then he gave a short, hissed laugh. "Well, well, how intriguing! No," he continued firmly over Molly's spluttered protests, "we will certainly humor the cautious young man. Fenrir, I'll not need you. I believe one horse is sufficient to point out the way." He swung up into the saddle. "Now, shall we begin our walk?" he added to the siblings. "Or, that is-" he went on, bending toward Luna. "I assume that you _prefer_ to walk, too?"

"I do not." said Luna decidedly. She caught the rider's arm and let herself be swung up before him.

"Luna!" shouted Harry, panicked, but it was too late. Tom had settled his little sister comfortably and put the horse into a plodding walk. Harry stood for a second, hands shaking, unsure what he had expected. Then he had to scramble after them.

The darkness pressed in around them as they left the bonfire behind. Lightning flickered and flashed. Tom's good humor seemed to have returned, and he soon had Luna telling him all about life at the Lodge. Harry stumbled along at the horse's flank, trying to keep up. He felt like a complete fool.

"Well I'm Tom Riddle, and I hear your name is Luna. That's the moon's name isn't it?" he asked.

"My name is Luna Potter, but I was named for my birthmother, not the moon. Or maybe I was named after the moon. After all the moon frogs and I always seem to find a way to be friends." Harry tripped over a root and thought Luna sounded like an idiot.

"It's funny the names humans come up with for things. Some are so strange and one of a kind. Harry, now, that's a name everyone knows."

They were walking through a field of weeds. The weeds were up to Harry's waist, and he kept slipping on the long stalks. "Mister Potter," he muttered through clenched teeth, but Tom heard him. He must have very good ears.

"Oh, hello, Harry, are you all right down there? Are you enjoying your walk? So, Mister Potter. How convenient. You have one name for friends and another for enemies." Luna giggled again. He certainly was making a hit with her.

"I do not have a name for enemies," Harry answered. "Polite society dictates the use of a person's name." He emphasized _polite;_ he just couldn't help himself. Something about Tom really rubbed him the wrong way. "I am Harry within my family and Mister Potter to strangers."

"Oh, good, Harry," came the cheerful reply. Really, this was intolerable. "I can keep calling you Harry and still be part of _polite_ society. I'm family, you know. Dolores Umbridge of Hallow Hill is a relative of mine. Her grandfather and my mother were cousins. Their fathers were brothers."

"Really?" exclaimed Luna excitedly. "I didn't know we had any more relatives." Neither did Harry. He felt his mortification could not go further. Perhaps this man had been on his way to visit his cousin. He must have known all about the two new wards. And now everyone would know how absurdly he had acted. But why had he been so rude? Why the hood, the wordless meeting? Really, it was his fault Harry had made such a colossal blunder. He was upset to the point of frustration.

"I'm afraid if you're Mrs. Umbridge's relative, you're no relative of mine," he snapped before he realized what he was saying. Oh, no! After keeping quiet all this time!

"What?" demanded Luna, and, "Really?" exclaimed his tormentor. He reined in the horse and turned to face him. "What do you mean, you're not an Umbridge? I thought you were living with your great-aunts."

"Oh, Luna, I'm sorry," faltered Harry, looking up through the darkness at the pale smudge that was all he could distinguish of his sister's face. "It's old news, really; no one minds. My great-grandmother was adopted into the family, that's all."

There was a pause. Then Tom urged the horse back into a walk.

"I can't say I'm sorry," he said thoughtfully. "New blood is very good for the Hill. But which great-grandmother are you talking about?" Thoroughly cowed, Harry told the story of Elizabeth's adoption, Adele's death, and their own consequent arrival, but he was rather scandalized when Tom laughed at all the wrong places.

"That's not how my mother told that story, Harry," he said carelessly. "I wouldn't believe everything that fool Umbridge tells you." Luna snorted delightedly, but Harry was bewildered.

"Do you mean you think she lied about the adoption?" he asked, struggling along by the horse's side.

"Oh, no. That's the only thing I do believe, but what a thing to tell you. Poor Harry!" he teased. "I don't think Umbridge likes you at all."

If he calls me Harry one more time, thought Harry, I'll do some thing horrible. Then he thought about the several horrible things he had already done that evening and subsided into misery again.

"We don't like her, either," confided Luna dreamily. "She's just hateful, with her overly sweet words, and her _hallow hill_ , and her _hollow hill_ , and her linguistic persistence of ignorance."

"What?" The rider seemed highly amused. "She's been explaining everything for you, has she? Tell me, what did she say about the Hill?" Luna went into a somewhat confused rendition of their cousin's speech on the place-names, and this time Tom laughed at all the right places.

"Well, Luna," he announced, "almost every bit of that is wrong. Completely and thoroughly wrong. Pigheaded. Would you like to know why it's really called Hollow Lake?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Luna.

"It's called Hollow Lake—because it's hollow." There was a momentary pause.

"Now, what does that mean?" Luna asked.

"It's just hollow, that's all."

"How is it supposed to be hollow?" demanded Harry. "You're just being ridiculous!"

"No," the man replied pleasantly, "I assure you I never lie. Now, that's a funny thing, lying. If you notice, Luna, most humans can't do without it. They consider it an essential component of- how shall I call it- _polite_ society." Harry felt the sting in Tom's words and set his teeth. No more talking. It only ended up used against him.

"Humans lie to each other constantly. They mean to. They think it best. They tell you what a clever child you are when they mean someone should muzzle you, and they tell one another how handsome they look when they think they look absurd. They believe they're doing the world a favor by lying. Why, take your brother as a case in point."

I won't say a word, Harry promised himself stoically, and Luna rushed to defend her brother against her newfound favorite.

"Harry doesn't lie!" she said indignantly.

"Oh, doesn't he?" answered Tom, sounding much amused. "Well, Luna, I'm sure he doesn't lie often, but such is the frail nature of humans that he simply couldn't help himself. Imagine," he lowered his voice dramatically, "as he stood by the bonfire tonight, he saw outlandish and otherworldly sights, and when I came toward him to lift him onto this horse here, he knew, he just _knew_ , that if he let me put him onto this horse, he'd be galloped away beyond the world we know into some strange, shadowy underworld." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And not one of the mortals on this earth would ever see him again."

Luna went off into pealing bells of laughter. Harry felt a swift chill run through him. How could this stranger know what he had felt? He hadn't even known it himself, but that was it exactly, down to the last detail.

"And so," continued Luna's storyteller cheerfully, "what on earth could your brother say? Could he say, I think you are about to steal me for what awful ends I know not? No, he is a human. He fell back on the _polite_ lie. And so he said," and here he took on a haughty tone, " 'I prefer to walk.' "

Harry forgot his promise to keep quiet. "You must think that I'm an idiot!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, no," the rider assured him. "You are a human of rare perception. Not one person in a hundred, maybe a thousand, would have realized in time. I find myself wondering," he added thoughtfully, "just how you managed it."

Harry tried to puzzle out this strange speech. Another riddle for him to solve. It sounded very important, but he was too tired to make any sense of it. If the walk continued much longer, he was afraid he would collapse. He felt as if he had never done anything else but stumble through blackness.

"And here we are," concluded Tom. They came up a rise. The orchard trees loomed out at them. Gravel crunched underfoot. And in another minute, there stood the Lodge itself, solid and comforting, with golden light streaming out of all the downstairs windows. The rider swung down from the saddle and lifted Luna to the ground. "Off you go," he told her. "I stay here."

"But won't you come in, Mr. Riddle?" begged Luna. "I know the aunts would love to meet you."

"Oh, I know them," he answered carelessly. "I remember when they first came here. Parvati was a pretty young thing then, I assure you! But newly widowed. That was a real pity," he added feelingly. "No, I'll come in another time."

"Good-bye, then, and thank you for the ride!" Luna wrung his hand and dashed up the path. He turned to Harry, who stood hesitating, almost too tired to walk farther. Now that they were back in the light again, he found his cloak and hood insulting. He could make out nothing about this irritating man, and he seemed to know everything about Harry.

"Harry, you look terrible!" he said sincerely. "You're completely exhausted. Well, you won tonight, and I'm not a good loser. I'm not used to it. But until next time," and he held out his hand.

Harry shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. He glared up at him, beside himself with indignation. He said firmly, "I hate to appear rude—"

"Yes, you do, don't you." He laughed. "Oh, I know what's bothering you," he teased before Harry could turn away in disgust. "The cloak and hood. It's been on your nerves all evening. You've been imagining all sorts of horrors, I'd guess."

This is just another way to goad me, Harry thought grimly, but he was absolutely right.

Tom tugged back his hood and examined Harry's stunned expression. He watched Harry's cheeks grow pale, his lips bloodless. Tom grinned in delighted amusement.

"You imagined all sorts of horrors. But maybe not this one." And he swung back into the saddle and rode away.

* * *

Out of curiosity, do you prefer very explicit descriptions of characters, telling you exactly how they look, or do you prefer more vague/open descriptions, giving you the chance to picture them how you want to? I plan on leaving it more vague and open(mainly because I don't have to try as hard to shove in more detailed descriptions), but I do have more in depth designs written out somewhere. If anyone would prefer more exact descriptions I could start posting a mini list of introduced characters plus descriptions at the bottom of chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Edit:** Thanks to iiAliceii for telling me of an error. Hopefully it was the only one.

* * *

"Mr. Riddle brought us home," Luna said from Aunt Parvati's arms. "He's so nice, he let me ride his horse, and it was such a beauty, too! We should invite him over to say thank you."

Aunt Padma knelt before the fire, heating water for tea. Never mind that it had been steamy all day; with the thunderstorms around, the air at the Lodge had turned gusty and chill. Besides, Aunt Padma believed in treating any case of accidental contact with weather as if the victim had just been dragged out of a snowbank.

"Who's Mr. Riddle, dear?" asked Aunt Parvati, yawning and smoothing back Luna's tumbled hair. It was one o'clock in the morning, and both aunts had been too frantic to sleep.

"Oh, you know, Mrs. Umbridge's cousin. He knows all about you. He said you were a pretty young thing, Aunt Parvati, when you first came here."

"How nice of him to say that, dear," she answered, "but I can't place who he would be."

Just as Luna opened her mouth to explain, the door slammed loudly. They looked up, startled, to see Harry standing against it, a Harry they had never seen before. It wasn't just that his clothes were damp, filthy, and torn. It wasn't even that his hair straggled more wildly than usual about his dirt-smudged face. It was the ghastly color of that face and the dilated eyes full of fear. He stared back at them for a few seconds, his chest heaving as he struggled for breath. Then he burst into motion.

"Draw the curtains! Draw the curtains!" was the first thing he managed to say. Luna ran to comply. They hustled him to the couch, pulled off his shoes, and piled blankets on him, but when Aunt Padma brought him a cup of tea, he could barely hold it.

The worried Padma wrapped Luna in a blanket and made her drink a cup of tea, too. "But, Aunt Padma, there's nothing wrong with me," protested Luna. "I don't know what's wrong with Harry, I really don't. He and Mr. Riddle were quarreling a little, but I think that's really his fault because he was rude to him. What happened to you, Harry? You look like you've seen a heliopath."

Knowing what Luna meant, Harry let out a quavering little laugh. I suppose I do, he thought. The memories of the bonfire and the journey whirled around in his head like fragments of a dream. He gulped the hot drink, feeling its warmth spread through him, and looked at the cozy room. Everything here was so real, so solid. Outside he could hear rain lashing the windows, thunder rolling and advancing, the wind howling in the trees. The storm had finally struck.

"Luna," said Aunt Padma. "I want you to tell Parvati and me everything that happened tonight. And, Harry, I want you just to listen. Start right at the beginning and go on till the end, and don't leave anything out."

Luna had been waiting practically her whole life for such an invitation. She had a world-class story and a perfect audience, and her brother was not to say a word. Luna started at the beginning and went on till the end. She didn't omit a thing. She didn't even forget to tell them that their nephew was a pigheaded fool.

"Well, Harry, I can certainly understand your being tired and upset," Parvati said cautiously. "But—did anything else happen, dear? That Luna's left out?"

"Yes," Harry said, taking a breath. "After Luna left, Mr. Riddle said good-bye to me. No, he said- he said until next time." He thought about that for a second, and his eyes grew large. "And then I wouldn't shake hands with him because he'd been so rude. So he laughed and said I was just upset because of his hood, that I'd been imagining all these horrors. And then," he raised his frightened eyes to theirs, "then he pulled back his hood. And he said I might have imagined other horrors, but not this one. Because- because he wasn't human. He just wasn't human! Oh, Luna, you were on that horse with him! I can't believe you're still alive."

The three listeners exchanged amazed glances. Luna was the most startled of all. She stared blankly at her brother.

"I thought he was nice," she said.

"Now, Harry," asked Padma, "when you say this wasn't... human, what exactly do you mean? Do you mean he didn't look human?"

"He, well…" Harry trailed off, looking around at their expectant faces.

"Well, what?" prompted Luna. "Did he have three eyes?"

"No, just two, but they were so strange," he answered. "They had slit pupils, and were red."

"Harry," said Aunt Parvati scoldingly, "that is absolutely ridiculous."

"I know," Harry replied, "but that wasn't all. His head was all wrong, too. It was really pale, and he had no hair. His nose was gone with nothing but slits, like a snake's." He looked helplessly at their puzzled faces.

"I don't know, Harry. Maybe he was just an old man," stated Luna disappointedly. She had secretly been hoping for empty eye sockets or no head.

"No, you're wrong, Luna, he wasn't old. Oh, he must be old, but he looked, well, not young, but … not old. But so thin and bony, and his skin was so pale! And his eyebrows were missing, and his tongue, there was something awful about his tongue." Luna started to giggle. "Stop it, Luna! I just can't explain it." He glared at his sister. "You wouldn't be laughing if you saw him, too. He was just… all wrong somehow."

"Well, Harry," said Aunt Padma sympathetically, "he doesn't sound like a nice old man at all. He sounds like quite an eccentric all the way around. He certainly set you up for a shock, wearing a hood and talking about horrors and ghostly rides. I suppose if you saw him by daylight, you would have thought he looked odd, but you were tired and unstrung, and he wanted to give you a scare. Your nerves weren't ready for it, that's all. You haven't been yourself these last several weeks."

A short time later, Harry lay in bed listening to the rain against the windows and the ominous rumble of the thunder. Flashes of lightning lit the sky. He stared up into the darkness overhead, dreadfully tired but too on edge to sleep. He was contrasting the terrifying memory with the humiliation of trying to describe it. He wasn't sure which one was worse.

His door creaked open in the darkness. A small figure padded in and snuggled down next to him.

"Harry, are you awake?" came a whisper. "I'm sorry I made you mad. If you don't like that man, I don't like him either, but it was splendid to hear him call Mrs. Umbridge a pigheaded fool."

"Yes, I suppose it was," Harry whispered back. He hugged his sister and smiled a little at the memory.

"I've thought of something," Luna whispered. "I'll bet he was a ghost. Did he shimmer a little? Do you think he was a ghost?"

"I don't know," Harry murmured sleepily. "Maybe he was. Maybe his skin shimmered. It certainly looked odd."

"Did he look as if he'd been dead a long time?" Luna asked.

"No," came the drowsy reply.

"Well—how about a little while?" Luna prompted hopefully. She waited. "Harry? Had he been dead a little while?" But no answer came. Her brother was asleep.

Harry's nightmares left him no peace. A man in a black hood kept dragging him from the house. He caught onto chairs, banisters, door frames, anything within reach, but the man was stronger than he was and just laughed at him. He couldn't see his face, but his eyes gleamed a bright red from beneath the hood. When dawn came, he was glad to get up.

The house seemed very quiet with all the windows closed against the rain. Harry stood at the parlor window and watched the wind tossing the tree branches. Thick, dark clouds hung low in the sky. Aunt Padma came back from the Hall after lunch, bringing Dolores Umbridge with her. They hurried up the steps together as large drops began to fall, and in another moment the rain cascaded down in silvery sheets.

Dolores Umbridge came into the parlor and warmed up at the fire. She hadn't seen much of her charges in the last couple of weeks, and she was surprised at the change she found in Harry. Padma was right. The boy looked really ill. The toadish woman rubbed her plump hands together as she toasted them in the heat.

"Your aunt has told me quite a tale of adventure," she announced to them. "Do you have any idea how far you were from here? What land you crossed last night?"

"Luna, you were on the horse," Harry said. "Did you see any lights or landmarks? I was too busy trying to keep my footing," he added resentfully.

"I couldn't see anything at all," Luna said. "It was as black as a pot out there. I don't know how the horse kept from tripping over his own feet."

Their guardian frowned at them critically. "If it was as dark as that," she observed, "I don't see how anyone could have possibly brought you home. Didn't you carry a light?"

The two siblings looked at each other, surprised. Neither had thought about this. "No," answered Harry, "he didn't carry any light at all. I was walking right by the horse, and I kept tripping because I couldn't see. I don't know how he knew where he was going."

Dolores Umbridge looked from one to the other of them. "Your great-aunts didn't see this gypsy," he remarked.

"He stopped just past the orchard and said he wouldn't come in," Luna said airily.

"And he rode back the direction he came," said Harry with a shudder.

Their guardian rubbed her chin thoughtfully, surveying them both. "And you say this man was my cousin?"

"That's right," said Luna. "He said he was family. He said that your grandfather and his mother were cousins."

"Yes," added Harry, "and that their fathers were brothers."

Dolores Umbridge put her hands behind her back and began to pace slowly. "Now, that's a nice little puzzle," she told them. "And if you work it out, you'll find that such a cousin would be the child of Dentwood Umbridge's daughter Adele. But Adele Umbridge, as you know, Mister Potter, died as a child. She left no children of her own, and her playmate's son inherited the estate."

Adele again! Harry was dumbfounded. He called to mind the picture from the Hall parlor. Black hair and blue eyes, laughing. Adele, who had died so that Harry could own Hallow Hill.

"Let's examine this rationally," Dolores Umbridge suggested, ticking the points off on her stubby fingers. "You get lost within sight of your own house. You meet a hooded man who claims he's the son of Adele Umbridge. You walk home without so much as a candle through a pitch-black night, and then you raise a fuss because he's some sort of ghastly monster. Really, Mister Potter!" she concluded sweetly. "Don't you think I'd see through a lie like that?"

Harry stared at her, confused. "Why do you think we would invent such a thing?" he asked.

Luna jumped up. "We really did get lost last night," she stated, "and your cousin Mr. Riddle really did bring us home. He knew all about Aunt Padma and Aunt Parvati, and he knew about you, too. He knows lots of things about this place that you don't know, and he assured us that he always speaks the truth."

Dolores Umbridge failed to look either mollified or convinced. "Miss Luna," she replied saccharinely, "if you can introduce me to this monster cousin, I'll be happy to believe you. Otherwise, let me just remind you that you're dealing with an educated woman who knows the difference between fact and lies." She glared at Luna, who glared right back.

Harry hurried to say something more helpful. "I know it sounds unbelievable, Mrs. Umbridge," he said. "I can't explain how we got lost, but Mr. Riddle certainly is no creation of ours. He's the most unpleasant man I've ever met. He deliberately scared the wits out of me."

Umbridge studied him narrowly, clasping and unclasping her hands. Harry's pale, worn face and earnest voice made it obvious that he was sincere. "So you really believe in that story you told?" she demanded in surprise. "You didn't invent that monster? You didn't just make it up for a thrill?" Harry shook his head without a word. His guardian noticed again how thin and sick he looked.

"Children, run up to your rooms for a few minutes. I'd like to speak to your aunts alone."

Umbridge left in the dogcart half an hour later. Noticing his aunts' frightened eyes, Harry wondered in irritation what on earth she could have said. They soothed Harry and fussed over him like two old hens. They didn't let him leave the house or even read. They wanted him to rest. And every time he said something, anything, they exchanged furtive glances.

Luna fared little better. At suppertime she tried to bring up the strange rider again, and Aunt Padma snapped at her.

"Don't tell stories," she said sternly.

"Stories!" Luna cried. "I never do! Harry—"

But Aunt Parvati interrupted. "Leave your brother out of this," she said sadly. "Harry's nerves aren't strong, but we expect you to know the difference between facts and falsehoods."

"Well, I'd like that too," Luna stormed a few minutes later as she stomped back and forth on the wooden floor of Harry's bedroom. "We tell them what someone else says, and we get blamed for lying. I'd like to see them face a ghost. I think your nerves are just fine." She flung herself down on the bench at Harry's dressing table. Looking in the tall, old mirror at its back, she stuck her tongue out at herself.

Harry lay on his bed, not really listening to Luna's tirade. He was staring up at the canopy, trying to puzzle through to the truth of last night. It did seem very much like a dream, like the nightmares he had been having. Maybe he had exaggerated. Maybe he had been half asleep and hadn't really seen enormous cats or children with beards. Maybe he hadn't really seen that strange caricature of a face. Facts and falsehoods. Weak nerves. He closed his eyes, terribly tired.

"Come look at this." Luna's voice rang out loudly, blaring like a bugle call through Harry's foggy brain.

"Oh Luna, what?" he begged. He opened his eyes and turned toward the dressing table. Nothing. Sitting up grudgingly, he found his sister standing by the window, staring out at the rainy trees beyond.

"Now they can't say I'm a liar!" Luna declared triumphantly. "This is great! Shall I call Aunt Padma?"

Level with the window but a dozen feet away, a cat crouched disconsolately on a dripping tree limb. It turned its golden eyes toward them, ears flat against its head, and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was very wet, very unhappy, and very, very large. It was the big black cat from the bonfire.

"Poor Neville! He's so miserable," Luna said sympathetically. "Harry, don't you think we could call him down and bring him inside?"

"No!" yelled Harry more forcefully than he had meant to. "No, Luna. We have to think this through. If that man who brought us home last night is a ghost, then his friends can't be much better, can they?"

"But I pet Neville!" Luna protested. "He's perfectly solid and not in the least terrifying. And he's out in the rain. You can see how much he hates it."

Harry went to the window and pulled back the lace to get a better look. The huge cat stared at him steadily.

"No, Luna," he said at last. "I don't like it. He may be a normal cat, but I'm not willing to find out. Aunt Padma would never let a cat into the house, anyway, much less a wet one as big as that. And I don't think it'll do any good to tell the aunts he's the same one we saw last night. They don't want to hear about last night at all."

Luna went grumbling off to bed. Harry spent another minute staring out at the cat. Then he dropped the sheer lace and pulled the long, thick curtains over the window. The rainy evening was fast becoming a rainy night. He lit the candle on his dressing table and changed hurriedly for bed.

He fell into a restless slumber, but even in the confused shreds of dreams, he knew he wasn't safe. In his sleep, he was telling Luna all about it. "Then I heard a click as the window opened," he said, and in that instant Harry was wide awake. The click hadn't been a dream. He craned his neck to see over the footboard. The heavy curtains still covered the window, but they were billowing gently outward as they caught the breeze.

Harry crawled to the bedpost and ducked behind the thick, gathered curtains of the bed. The open window let in all the sounds of a drizzly night: the gentle dripping and tapping, the wind sighing. Another unmistakable sound joined them: slow, heavy footsteps by the window. They wandered in an unhurried fashion down the room as if the unseen caller were looking casually around. They came closer and closer. They were right beside his bed.

Harry let out a shout. "Get out of my room!" Then he ducked down farther and held his breath. Nothing happened. The stillness was profound. He scrambled up and peered into the darkness, but he couldn't see anyone there. The window was closed now, and the curtains hung limp. No footsteps sounded in the room beyond, no movement, no breathing. Long seconds crawled by.

"I'm not in your room," announced Tom's pleasant voice.

Harry froze in horror. His first instinct was to leap to the door and run away, but the invader was bound to follow him. If he ran to Luna's room, Tom might hurt his little sister, and if his great-aunts ever saw such a monster Harry was sure they wouldn't survive it. He stared feverishly into the blackness but saw nothing at all. Where could he be?

He slipped out of bed and crept to his dressing table. His hands shaking, he struck a match, but his candle blossomed into golden light before the match even caught. He whirled, examining his bedroom by its friendly glow. The room, lit by the single candle flame, seemed full of shadow and menacing beyond words.

"You told me to get out of your room," noted Tom's voice behind him. "Look in the other room, the one you see in your mirror."

Harry turned to face the tall mirror on his dressing table. What he saw could not possibly be. He put a hand on his bedpost to steady himself. The reflection reached out a hand and clutched its bedpost, too. A hand with too pale fingers. Tom stood facing him in the old tarnished mirror. Harry's own image was gone.

What Tom was, Harry didn't know, but he couldn't be a human, not with that pale, snakelike head and thin, bony body. The long spider like hands conveyed the idea of strength without beauty. He was wearing black robes and boots, but he had left the riding cloak at home. His face and hands were a ghastly pale white, his lips non-existent, and fingernails too long.

Most striking of all were Tom's eyes. They were as he told his aunts earlier, slit pupiled and completely red, and they gleamed at him as if lit from within.

This grotesque vision rendered Harry incapable of action for a minute. As his wits began to return, a grim resignation came with them. Luna and the aunts were weaker than he was. He would have to face this monster alone. He took a step toward the frightful image and groped for the bench, seating himself unsteadily before the mirror. The monstrous reflection moved as he did, sinking down upon its own bench. Those odd eyes watched him attentively and shrewdly, and Tom grinned at him. Harry stared in fascinated revulsion. His teeth, small and even, were a dark silver-gray, and they were sharper than proper teeth should be.

Everything about this creature was inhumanly freakish, inhumanly ugly, and he was very grateful that it was not in the same room with him. The mirror was between them. Or was it? Suppose Tom could just grab him with those spidery hands? He held his breath and reached out to feel the mirror, and the figure beyond slowly reached out its hand as well. They came closer and closer together until Harry felt something cold brush his fingertips.

A second later he was on his feet by the bed, gasping for air, the overturned bench hitting the floor in front of him. Tom sprang up to copy, but he failed in the pantomime. Instead, he clung to the bedpost, shaking with laughter.

"You should have seen your face!" he chuckled. "I had no idea that touching glass could be so alarming!"

Harry drew long breaths, his fright giving way to indignation. Yes, that was this creature's other characteristic, he remembered with disgust. Inhumanly ugly and, as far as he could tell, inhumanly rude.

"I never saw anyone move so fast! You should have seen yourself!"

Harry eyed him balefully, furious at being laughed at. This is the last time, he vowed firmly, that I give him that satisfaction. He righted the upset bench as calmly as he could and sat down shakily. Tom moved to do the same, not bothering to copy him this time. He just pulled the bench up and sat down as if they were across a normal table instead of across magical dimensions. Then he propped an elbow on his dressing table and leaned his cheek on one hand, looking out at him expectantly.

"Yes, I should have seen myself," said Harry, finding his voice with an effort. "I'm looking in a mirror, aren't I? I want my reflection back where it belongs."

"I'll be your reflection," Tom teased. "You'll come and sit before me, and I'll tell you how handsome you are. I'll tell you that there's no man in the whole land to compare with you, just like magical mirrors are supposed to."

Harry decided to ignore his impertinence. It was the only thing he could do. "Why did you come here?" he demanded angrily. "Why are you bothering me?"

"I'm here tonight for the same reason that I was here last night," he replied. "Are you sure you really want to know why? You look a little upset." He crossed his arms and leaned forward to study him carefully. "There's no insanity in your family, is there?"

The irony of this question coming out of the mouth of a grotesque illusion left Harry speechless for a few seconds. Insanity? Not until he came along. Harry shrugged, looking blank.

"No insanity," Tom concluded in relief. "That's good. You do keep surprising me," he admitted. "I thought I had you sound asleep. Then there you were, sitting up and shrieking like a teakettle. Really, Harry!" he reproved, shaking his head at him. "What if someone had heard you?"

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked quickly before he could lose his nerve. Suppose Tom did something horrible!

"No," he answered. "I am alive, just as you are."

"Then you're a demon?" he guessed.

"How wicked do you think I am?" He chuckled. "You think I'm evil incarnate just because I irritate you? There must be a special place in hell for people who use your first name without permission." He chuckled smugly at his own joke.

Harry glared at him in embarrassed rage. "Then what are you?" he demanded.

Tom considered him shrewdly.

"I'm a goblin," he replied and grinned at him. Harry shuddered. Those teeth! He stared at him, completely at a loss. He tried to think of everything he had ever heard about goblins, but it wasn't much.

Tom watched him with interest, waiting to see what he would say next. "Just what is a goblin?" he prompted the confused Harry. Harry rallied before Tom could make fun of him.

"Something annoying," he stated. Tom was helpless with laughter.

"Oh, Harry, I do like you," he confessed. "You're quite a welcome surprise. So you don't know what a goblin is. I'll tell you, then. It is a creature of the race begun by the First Fathers, made with their magic as they drew on the strength of all the other creatures to produce their children. And the goblin you see before you is Tom Riddle, the King of the goblins, the direct descendant of the Greatest of the First Fathers of our race.

"In each generation since the very beginning," he said, "the King's Wife has steadied and increased the King's magic. The stronger the magic, the longer the King and his wife live. Eventually the King's Wife will borne only one child, and that child is always a son. Each son has become king in his turn. The King is the guardian and source of the magical gifts of our race. Without the King, the race is lost." He paused and considered Harry thoughtfully.

"But this King's wife has died without leaving a son," he told him.

Harry eyed the grotesque goblin uneasily. What should one say to a monster who has lost his spouse? Harry's upbringing had not prepared him for moments like this.

"Shall I tell you what your mirror sees?" Tom went on. Harry frowned and looked away, expecting more teasing. "I see a young human male who is astonishingly handsome," he said. Surprised, Harry eyed him warily. "And who has demonstrated a courage, intelligence, and resourcefulness that I did not at all expect. In short, I see an ideal King's Wife. Or I suppose husband." He tacked on as an after thought.

It took Harry a few seconds to comprehend, and then his blood froze in his veins. He couldn't move or speak, though he was vaguely aware that the ugly creature was watching him with concern. The room began to grow dim around him.

"Harry," said that commanding voice, "you are having a horrible nightmare." He heard him over the roaring in his ears. It was the only thing he had said that made sense. "Lie down now." Harry put his head down on a pillow. A blanket came over him. He felt its warm touch against his cheek.

"Sleep well, with no more nightmares," concluded the voice. "When you wake up, you will be refreshed. But you will remember everything that has happened tonight in perfect detail."

The candle snuffed out, and the mirror went blank, but Harry didn't notice. He was already sleeping soundly and peacefully, carrying out the goblin King's orders to the letter.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** This is late, very late. I am sorry. I'm trying to write 5 chapters ahead of what I post but I'm currently stuck on chapter 9. As is often the case when I write, I am stuck on relationship building. I want this story to be as reasonable and realistic as possible, but I also want it to be actual romance and not...well Stockholm syndrome. On top of that, I'm also trying to properly describe the world and how it works without it just being clumsily shoehorned in. But there are a lot of concepts that can't just be showed and need to be explained. Ugh so frustrating. Anyway, this chapter is here and the next one shouldn't be more than a 2 weeks wait. I just need to sit down and work on this more.

* * *

"Wake up! Are you going to sleep all day?"

Harry opened his eyes and blinked drowsily. Aunt Padma pushed back the curtains and unlatched the window as Luna sat down next to Harry. A fresh, cool breeze flowed into the room. Outside, Harry could see green leaves glowing in the bright morning sun.

"How are you, dear?" asked Padma cautiously, coming over. "Luna said she heard you crying out and talking in your sleep. I'm sorry I didn't hear you. Are you feeling any better?"

"I feel great." Harry smiled up at her. "I slept so well that I'm completely refreshed." He frowned. "But then, I had to, didn't I?" he added bitterly. Luna and Aunt Padma exchanged puzzled glances.

"Well, dear," Padma said anxiously, "we're going down to the Hall for the day, but I think perhaps you should stay home and rest."

Harry climbed out of bed. "Oh, no," he declared. "I don't want to miss a nice morning like this. Mrs. Figg is bound to have a wonderful meal planned for us at the Hall. I'll be ready in just a few minutes," he promised, and shooed the two of them out the door.

Feeling bold, he hurried to his dressing table. He sat for a moment and examined his reflection closely, but the mirror behaved in every respect like a good mirror should. It reflected a cozy, personable room and the glorious day outside. There was nothing to indicate the strange happenings of the night before. Nothing, that is, beyond his own peculiar expression. One cannot look entirely ordinary, he considered, after such a horrifying event. Or, although he failed to realize it, after being told one is astonishingly handsome. He did linger just a minute longer than usual before the glass, turning his head to catch a view of his profile. Then he remembered the goblin's proposal to flatter him whenever he came near the mirror and jumped up in a huff.

Harry dressed hastily, splashing his face with cold water to bring the color to his pale cheeks. He didn't bother brushing his hair as he stared at himself in the mirror and tried not to think about what he had seen there, but his strange visitor's every gesture, every word came clearly to mind. He could practically relive the night's events. What had he said? "You will remember everything that has happened tonight in perfect detail."

Good spirits waning, he went to the window to clear his thoughts. No giant black cat waited outside, but a small tabby cat crouched on the tree limb by his room, right where the large black one had been. It was facing his window, and Harry had the distinct impression that it was watching him.

He came out to the waiting carriage with a brave smile for his worried aunts, but when a tabby cat came leaping down to the gravel path beside him, he brandished his fist at it and chased it away. He turned back to find all three occupants of the carriage staring at him in bewildered alarm.

"Heavens, Harry!" reproved Luna. "Bullying a cat!"

"Hush, Luna!" Padma scolded sharply as she and Parvati exchanged anxious glances.

They arrived at the Hall, and the aunts swept in, greeting Mrs. Figg. Harry straggled behind, uneasy and irritable. At the door, Luna paused and looked back. She caught Harry's arm with a grin and pointed at the carriage.

There on the roof crouched the cat. It sat up, giving him a very stern look, and lashing its tail at him. Harry had a vision of himself chasing it headlong down the gravel track, yelling like a banshee. No, perhaps he'd better not. He gathered the shreds of his composure about him and stepped through the door. If he shut it behind him with more force than necessary, he was unaware of it. Occupied with his own thoughts, he didn't see the shocked glances of his aunts as he walked past them to take his place in the dining room. Mrs. Figg sat down with the family and summoned the staff to begin serving the meal.

Harry picked at his food. If a magical goblin has no intention of caring about another's freedom I suppose it's my responsibility to stop him, Harry concluded pessimistically. As well as I know how.

That raised another point. What did he know about how to stop goblins? Nothing whatsoever. He had heard the term applied to mischievous children, and he thought he remembered a story about goblins from his nursery days, something about ugly little creatures with big round eyes who stole anything shiny they found. Harry felt a sense of indignation. His education had obviously been inadequate. He must learn more, but not from the goblin himself. Harry was sure he wouldn't escape another encounter with him. Perhaps he could find out something useful from Mrs. Figg. She had lived there all her life and was bound to know something about goblins. Maybe she could tell Harry what to do.

The meal was dragging on in awkward silence. No one had been able to think of much to say. Perhaps this was because Dolores Umbridge ate without her usual book, paying close attention to the conversation. Harry didn't know how his aunts felt about this abnormal behavior, but it made him rather uncomfortable.

"Mrs. Figg," he said to the housekeeper as carelessly as he could, "Mrs. Umbridge told us once that there are lots of folktales about Hallow Hill. Do any of the stories mention goblins?"

Dolores Umbridge leaned herself forward and looked at Harry.

"Who has told you about goblins, Mister Potter?" she asked. "And please don't try to tell me that it was my cousin." This was a nice mess, decided Harry, taken aback. He couldn't possibly answer her.

"I was just curious," he said.

His guardian turned to the housekeeper. "Did you tell him?" she demanded.

"Of course not, ma'am!" that good woman gasped, her pleasant face wrinkled in concern. "I knew you wouldn't want your young charges hearing those old stories."

"So there are stories about goblins!" exclaimed Harry in relief. "I'd very much like to hear them."

"Don't you think you've heard enough of them already?" his guardian asked him knowingly, but when Harry gave her a puzzled look, she gave him a puzzled look in return. "All right, Mrs. Figg," she sighed, "we'd better hear the stories again. Maybe then we'll get somewhere."

"Well, now," began the housekeeper hesitantly. "Now, you two know that I've never breathed a word about goblins to you. But the truth is, my own grandparents and the folk they lived among would have sworn to you that there were elves and goblins in these hills. Why, when I was a child, there wasn't a single one of us girls allowed out of the house after sunset. All because the magical folk, you see, they be creatures of the nighttime, and they can't see in the day.

"The old folks told us that the goblins would steal a girl if they caught her out wandering in the twilight. They'd drag her away to their caverns under the Hill to be a goblin bride. Her hair would turn white, and the color would fade out of her, and she'd become like one of them creatures herself, nursing some squalling goblin brat in those dripping holes down in the Hill. They always did want the pretty ones, the girls who hadn't been married, so once we were married, you know, we didn't have to worry about them anymore."

Harry remembered Tom commenting on how pretty Aunt Parvati had been in her youth, but she had been a widow. "That was a real pity," he had said emphatically. Now he knew what Tom had meant.

"No one ever did see the goblins or the elves," Mrs. Figg continued, "or if they did, they didn't let on to have seen them. They be terrible secretive creatures and powerful with magic, and it didn't pay to cross them at all. Sometimes, old folks said, they'd hear hunting horns at night, and sometimes sounds of battle, but the wise folk barred their doors and pulled their shutters. You see, the elves and the goblins were here in this land long before us, and folks respected their ways."

"But what were you supposed to do if you did meet a goblin?" asked Harry. "Sneeze, or throw salt in its eyes, or say the Lord's Prayer?"

"There's no right way to meet a goblin," said the housekeeper. "Staying inside at night was all we could do because they'd not take notice of us then. If a girl was to get stolen, well, she was stolen, is all. Sneezing and salting wasn't going to help. No need for you to worry though, the goblins never went for boys."

Oh good, I'm special, Harry thought despondently.

"Did you know any girls who got stolen?" asked Luna hopefully.

"Well, no," Mrs. Figg admitted. "Not that there wasn't the occasional odd bit of news. A girl might go out for a walk and never come back, and her family would never know what had become of her. But there is one story from my grandmother's day that always scared us young girls into staying safe indoors, and that was the story of Miss Adele Umbridge.

"You see, my grandmother said Miss Adele was as bold as any general, and to tell her not to do a thing was the same as to see her do it. Her playmate Miss Elizabeth was a timid little thing, and it may be that encouraged Miss Adele in her outrageousness. If it was riding the half-broken colt or walking a cliff's edge, Miss Adele would do it, half for the fun of the thing and half to hear Miss Elizabeth's frantic screams begging her to stop. But they went everywhere together, and for all her frights and shocks, Miss Elizabeth couldn't bear to be left at home.

"When they were just about old enough to be thought young ladies, folks warned them to stay safe at home at night, and that right away fired Miss Adele's ambition. She swore she'd be the first to walk into the goblin caves right through their own front door. She'd catch a goblin with her own bare hands or perish in the attempt. And so, evening after evening of those pretty summer days, she was roaming about the woodlands and fields in the twilight, calling for those goblins to come out and show themselves.

"Then came the night the old folks had been waiting on. Miss Elizabeth came running into the house, screaming and crying, and Miss Adele was nowhere to be seen. It seems Miss Adele had been marching up a wooded path with a stick in her hand, whacking at the tree trunks and calling on the goblins, when all of a sudden a whole crowd of creatures leapt from the shadows around her. Then a tall man in a black cloak and hood stepped to her side. He lifted her up in his arms, and the whole crowd melted into the shadows and was gone, with only the sounds of Miss Adele's screams left behind them to show where they had been.

"Old Dentwood Umbridge stood up looking pale as death, and he called for his master of hounds. The two of them went off with lanterns and the pack on a leash. And when they returned without her in the wee hours of the night, old Umbridge called the staff together, and he bade them all good-bye. 'My daughter is dead,' he told them, 'and don't think you'll see her again.' Then he took Miss Elizabeth into the carriage with him, and two good strong lads for protection, and they rolled off into the night. And that was the last Hallow Hill ever saw of the old master or his daughter."

"Then it's true!" exclaimed Harry in horror. "Adele did become the King's Wife!" The entire group turned toward him, stunned. "The goblin King's Wife," he hurriedly explained. "Adele had to marry the King, and that creature is her son. He wasn't lying to us after all, Luna."

Her dinnertime companions couldn't have looked more astounded. Even Luna gave her brother a baffled look. Dolores Umbridge was the first to speak.

"What on earth are you talking about, Mister Potter?" she demanded.

"I'm talking about terrible danger," insisted Harry urgently. "Please, you have to send me away from here! They got Adele," he said with a shudder, "and who knows how long she survived down there, but they're not going to get me."

"You think goblins are trying to get you?" asked his guardian in surprise.

"I know he is," answered Harry firmly. "He told me so." Dolores Umbridge stared at him. Then she turned to his sister.

"Miss Luna, you went on that adventure, too. Do you know anything about this?" Her younger charge shrugged and shook her head.

"Of course she doesn't," said Harry. "He told me last night. He said his first wife died childless, and I'm ideal. But they can't see in the daytime," he added, planning rapidly. "If I leave now, maybe I can travel beyond their reach by nightfall." He began calculating how long it would take to pack and what he would need to bring. The others at the table exchanged apprehensive glances, their meal quite forgotten.

"Ideal for goblin's wife? Needed to bare children?" demanded Dolores.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Harry. "I know it seems impossible, but you just have to believe me. Adele's your own relation, after all. Haven't you learned anything from her story?"

"Mister Potter," remarked Dolores Umbridge sweetly, "we don't concern ourselves with old gossip. We live in the nineteenth century now. Not even Mrs. Figg really believes her goblin tales."

Harry glanced, surprised, at the housekeeper, who was watching him anxiously. The pleasant woman gave an embarrassed shrug and looked away. Harry paused, deeply frustrated, and looked around the table at the others. They all looked as if they wished they were somewhere else. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I understand your doubts," he said reasonably. "I can see why you thought we invented our walk home the other night. There are parallels to Adele's story, of course. It would be easy to think that we had heard it and decided to make up our own, but I promise you that we didn't. I would be happy to show you proof if only I had it. But please believe me," he insisted as calmly as he could. "I'm in terrible danger. I'm not lying to you."

His guardian rose and began to pace the room slowly, her hands clasped behind her back. She turned to look at him several times. Harry looked back as sincerely as he knew how.

"I do believe you," she remarked finally. "I can see that you're not lying."

Harry let her breath out in relief. "Then you know I'm in danger," he concluded. "You'll send me away."

"No, Mister Potter," countered Dolores Umbridge. "I do not know that you're in danger, but I do know that you're sincere in your delusions. It's obvious that your nerves have given way and left you in a frantic state. You've made some sort of break with reality."

Harry rose to his feet, astounded. "Are you saying that I'm mental?" he demanded.

His guardian looked dismayed. "There's no need to use so harsh a term," she protested. "But we felt even before this strange outburst that your nerves were showing severe strain. You must admit, Mister Potter, that you've given us cause for concern."

Harry stared at each of them one by one. Mrs. Figg, fiddling anxiously with her fork and knife. Aunt Parvati, face hidden behind her handkerchief. Aunt Padma, staring at the pattern on the platter with the most intense concentration. Luna, pushing a few stray peas around and around with her fork. Harry looked back up to meet his guardian's pale-eyed stare.

"You've certainly given me cause for concern, too," he remarked bitterly. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

After a half hour of frantic searching, Luna caught up with Harry. Her brother was lying in the middle of the tree circle, staring at the white clouds overhead. He sat up as Luna approached and began gathering the small lilies that grew within her reach.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Luna said miserably. "I do believe you! I do! You're not really mad," she quavered. "I mean, I understand if you want to be …"

"Don't be a complete goose, Luna," said Harry disgustedly. "The rest of them are bad enough." He told his sister about the events of the previous night. Luna hugged her knees and listened carefully, not saying a single word.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed when her brother was finished. "Your very first proposal." Harry stared unbelievingly at the round, solemn eyes and flopped onto his back, laughing loudly. When he recovered, he attacked his sister and tickled her unmercifully.

"How dare you," he choked, "call that monstrosity a proposal! I simply can't believe it! What a stupid thing to say!"

"Well," his sister sheepishly amended, brushing grass off her dress, "it was sort of like a proposal, anyway. Do you think he loves you?" she added, wide-eyed again.

"Please," groaned Harry, lying back to look up at the clouds. "He's not even human! He's a grotesque monster! Weren't you paying attention?"

"But he can do magic!" his sister pointed out excitedly. "Think how handy if you can't light your candle in the dark."

"And that's exactly where I would be, in the dark." They both sobered up, thinking about Mrs. Figg's tale of the dank caves under the Hill. Harry shivered. "Imagine!" he said. "Poor Adele, shut up in a hole like that. I'd never survive it, Luna. I'd die, I just know I would." Luna took his hand and squeezed it affectionately.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "It does sound terrible. But I'll help. What do we do?"

"I don't know," Harry replied gloomily. "I've been trying to think of a plan. I know good and well that they won't let me near the horses, and if I try to take the dogcart, they really will think I'm crazy. We'll just have to find some way to convince Mrs. Umbridge and the aunts that the goblin is real."

"I don't know why they don't believe you," commented Luna. "It makes perfect sense to me."

"We live in the nineteenth century now," Harry mimicked his guardian in a lofty tone. Then he laughed.

After a short time in silence, Harry spoke up. "We'd better go home now and face the whispering aunts. We'll stay together in your room tonight, and maybe I can find some way to convince them tomorrow."

But even this simple plan proved impossible.

"You want us to do what?" Harry gasped to Padma. That dour woman held a letter out to him.

"I want you and Luna to take this message up to the Hall for me," Padma replied defensively. "You'll stay with Mrs. Figg tonight."

"But Aunt Padma," spluttered Harry, "you can't possibly mean it! It's already dark out there!"

"I certainly do mean it," his aunt said forcefully. "Harry, I know you're afraid of... of the dark, but Dolores suggested this, and I think it will help. You need to face your fears."

"What?" gasped Harry. "You actually expect me to walk out this door, and _face_ them?"

"Harry, get hold of yourself!" the old woman said firmly. "We simply can't have another day like today."

"Oh, you won't!" snarled Harry, snatching the letter from her. "You won't have any more days like today ever again!" The two siblings stumbled out into the night.

"This is just splendid!" snapped Harry, clutching Luna's hand tightly. "This is simply perfect!" He stopped short at the gravel path. "Now what on earth are we going to do?"

"Run?" suggested Luna uncertainly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Luna! They have horses."

They entered the forest. The moon, almost full, climbed a nearly cloudless sky, and Harry gathered courage from its pale rays. Bright moonlight dappled the path before them with silver spots, but under the trees, the shadows were black and ominous. After only a couple of minutes, they heard just what they had been afraid to hear: the creaking of saddles and the ringing of hooves on stone. Voices behind them began to laugh and howl.

"Come _on!_ " Harry yelled, and they did their best to run. They stumbled over roots and caught their clothes on branches. Harry lost a shoe and ran on in his sock. The horses were almost upon them. He dragged Luna off the path into the deep shadows beside it. The horses trotted by.

"Quick!" gasped Harry. "They missed us!" He jumped to his feet with his sister in tow and ran across the path into the woods beyond. About ten feet off the path, a clearing opened up. A little woman worked in the moonlight, filling her basket with herbs and humming melodiously.

"Help!" panted the siblings, dashing up. Molly's broad face and bright brown eyes turned toward them.

"Oh, look!" she cried, clapping her hands and dropping her herb-filled basket. "It's my handsome lad and pretty lass! Now, help from what, my dears?"

Harry stopped short in horror, but Luna burst out, "Molly, save us! The goblins are coming!" This was a rather silly speech to make, but the little woman took their trembling hands kindly enough.

"Not yet, dears," she soothed. "Who's been chasing you?" As if in reply, they heard hooves on the path again. Harry pointed mutely toward the sound.

"Oh, that!" Molly chuckled. "They're no goblins! Just a couple of clodhopping humans out for a moonlight ride."

"But they're after us!" cried Luna. Harry nodded vigorously. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it stuck fast.

"Not for long," declared the little woman. "Just stand still now." She reached into one of her capacious pockets and pulled out some sort of powder, carefully patting it down into the hollow of her hand. The horses were almost upon them. Molly took a deep breath and blew the powder toward them. The air was filled with the sound of terrified neighing and plunging, riders' confused shouts, and snapping branches. The two horses tore off down the path to the house as if demons were after them, their riders clinging to them more by accident than skill.

Molly watched them go, chuckling with satisfaction. Then she bent and retrieved her basket and went on with her work. The siblings stared after the horses in amazement. The exhaustion of the sudden fright and quick run caught up with them, and they stood speechless for a moment, drawing in shaky breaths.

"We're so excited about the wedding, dear," Molly assured the petrified Harry, her nimble fingers working in the weeds at their feet. "And a prize you are, to be sure, after the King's last wife. What a crazy, mean thing she was, poor mite! He certainly didn't deserve that. And a fine King he is, too, my dear, though I should say it, I was his old nurse, you know. He's got stronger magic than any of the previous Kings, though there do be some who say he was too elf-pretty to be a proper king."

"Mm," said Harry stupidly, too horrified to reply, but Luna was quite interested in the little woman's speech. She had no difficulty, as usual, in thinking of things she wanted to know.

"What do you mean, elf-pretty?" she asked the busy Molly. "And why doesn't the King just marry another goblin? Doesn't anyone at home want to marry him?"

"Oh, they couldn't, dear, you know," Molly replied. "goblin women don't bear well, and are never compatible enough to meld their magic with a king. Many goblins marry outside to bring in fresh blood, you see. And the King, always. It's the ancient way of our race. Elves and humans for the King, though there's been the occasional dwarf," she added proudly. "And that's the way it's always been for us. The high families marries the elves and dwarves, an occasional goblin with high elf or human blood, or a pretty human girl, and the beast folk marries whatever of the animal folk they fancies. The cat tribe, the dog tribe, wolves or deer, anyone who'll be a good mother to goblin young. That's why goblins look like everything on earth."

"What makes one a high goblin?" Luna inquired.

"Oh a couple of things," Molly said distractedly. "Intelligence, magical strength and appearance. Bipedal is is the main factor for appearance."

The two girls pondered this extremely peculiar statement. Luna was not to be thwarted, however.

"What do you mean, the king is elf-pretty?" she asked again. Molly stopped her work and stretched.

"The Kings tended to marry elves, back when the elves still lived. They're all gone now, the elves. I saw the last when I was a child. She was this King's grandmother, and he's like her in ways. He's hardly got a single animal trait about him, and that's odd in an unmarried King. No wings or claws, no feathers or fangs, and that makes folks call him elf-pretty. Oh, they were our cousins, you know, the elves, though there was no love lost between us. They were pretty to look at, but we were the stronger race. We captured their women whenever we pleased, and the goblins learned their magic. This King, now," she nodded to Harry, "he knows all about elf magic. It's a powerful good to the goblin folk to have a strong King."

A strong King. That was just the problem. "Yes, well," Harry said, managing to find his voice at last, "Luna and I had better be going now. Thank you for your help."

Old Molly's brown eyes twinkled up at Harry shrewdly. "Don't thank me just yet, my dear," she said.

"Well, good-bye, then," Harry answered. He took Luna's hand and turned to go. Then he let out a gasp. His feet! They were glued to the spot. He tried to tear them free, but they seemed to have grown roots.

"Molly!" he cried. He and Luna struggled fruitlessly and then stared at each other in panic. The goblin woman calmly carried on with her work.

"We're so excited about the wedding," she repeated. "We've got everything all ready. And I'm in charge of the women's part. It's quite an honor, you know. Especially with this likely being the last wedding of a King."

Harry couldn't pay attention to that last bit as he thought he could hear distant hoofbeats over the drumming of blood in his ears. "Molly," he pleaded futilely.

"Now, now, dear," the old woman said soothingly, "you've no need to carry on. He'll make a good husband for you, you know. He was that kind to his other poor wife, and she was just as mad as a spring hare."

Yes, that must be hoofbeats, Harry thought desperately, and he knew how that poor mad wife must have felt. Suddenly he got a feeling, he knew just what to do.

"Molly," he said winningly, not even sure what he was saying, "you don't want the King's new husband handed over like a sack of potatoes. Everyone will hear of it. What a dull, drab thing I'll seem." The little woman paused in her work, her bright brown eyes on Harry.

"And isn't it good to see the King so busy," Harry chatted on. "Something new to plan for every day. It's good for him, you know," he added persuasively. "He always does get things his own way."

Molly burst into a chuckle and patted Harry's hand. "Oh, go on with you," she said indulgently as if she were sending them out to play. "Go ahead and get a little head start; it does make it sporting. He'll be here soon enough."

"Thank you, Molly," Harry gasped, snatching his sister's hand and dashing from the clearing. On the path, they both froze, listening. The horseman was very near.

"To the tree circle!" called Harry. "He's already at the house." Then he saved his breath for running. As they tore up the little slope that led to the tree circle hill, the hoofbeats drummed out loudly behind them. The horseman was catching up.

"Don't look back," Harry begged, but Luna couldn't help it. As they raced toward the first circle of trees, she glanced over her shoulder to see the gray horse break from the woods behind them. His master held him at a gallop, riding low, black cloak streaming back in the wind and one arm reaching out to snatch the siblings. Then Harry was dodging between the massive trees, dragging Luna behind him. They heard the horse plunge and slide to a stop as they ran to the center of the clearing.

The stars hung huge and low over them, and the almost-full moon shone down, but a crackling ring of green lightning split the sky. It arced and danced in the trees, blinding their dazzled eyes, and a fierce wind whipped up, whirling and tearing at their clothes. The siblings threw themselves on the ground and huddled in terror, their arms clutched tightly around each other. The wind whistled and sang in their ears, and the constant cracks of lightning picked out patterns on the insides of their tightly closed eyelids. Luna sobbed aloud in fright. Harry waited in a state beyond fright for the hands that would drag him away. When they didn't come, he began to grow impatient. What was Riddle waiting for?

"Stop doing that!" he called out loudly. "You're frightening my sister!"

Complete calm reigned instantly. No lightning crackled, and the wind puffed down to a gentle breeze. After a few seconds, the two of them raised their heads and looked about them, expecting to see destruction and chaos, wildfires and uprooted trees. Instead, the stars hung huge and low, and the silver moon shone down. The clearing looked exactly as it had before.

"Harry," called Tom's pleasant voice from beyond the huge oak trees, "it's time to stop this foolishness now. Come out before you make me do something rash."

Harry felt his blood turn to ice. He stroked the grassy turf for a second. The feel of it gave him confidence. He looked around at the stars, the moon, the trees. These were things that he could count on.

"You can't come in here, can you?" he shouted back. "This is a magic place."

"Don't be ridiculous," the goblin answered reasonably. "Of course I can come in. It is a magic place, and I'm magic."

"Oh, no, or you'd already be here," Harry shouted exultantly. "Your magic doesn't work here. You can't do anything to us, I know it!"

Tom walked into the clearing, stopping just inside the circle of trees. Luna gave a gasp of dismay and scrambled to her feet. She was getting her first good look at The goblin King.

Tom grinned, showing his silvery teeth. "Harry, you are a treasure," he declared. "I don't know how you know things, but you do. You're exactly right. I can't do anything to make you leave this place. Anything magical, anything actual. All force is completely forbidden here because this is the elves' and goblins' truce circle." He sighed. "And once again, I just wish I knew how you know it."

Harry struggled to his feet, wild hope making him giddy.

"We're safe here," he told his sister. He turned triumphantly to face Tom. "And you might as well leave. We'll be staying here all night where you can't hurt us."

The pale goblin smiled at him. "Now, who ever gave you the idea that I would hurt you?" He stared at Harry with his brilliant eyes. "No, force is not allowed at all within this circle. You are free to do whatever you want to do. Or whatever you're persuaded to do. Elves and goblins aren't susceptible to persuasion spells, so there's no protection against them." He leered at the two siblings. "Let's see, Harry," he suggested. "I think what you really want to do right now is walk over to me."

Harry stiffened at once, his confidence evaporating. "I certainly do not!" he gasped. Tom's face wore an amused grin.

"No?" he asked coolly. His voice dropped, becoming quiet and gentle. "Walk toward me, Harry, first the left foot and then the right. You want to come away with me." He continued in a steady murmur, the pleasant voice almost a singsong. Harry felt his resistance begin to fade. He was so convincing. It all sounded so easy. He found himself taking a step.

"Luna, help!" Harry cried out in dread, but before his sister could come to his aid, Tom's voice quickened a trifle.

"And Luna, you want to sit right down and watch him," he went on smoothly. Luna plopped down on the grass. "You just wonder what all the fuss is about." His even voice continued, rising and falling, almost without words. Luna watched Harry tottering step by step toward the edge of the circle, his teeth gritted, hands clenched, desperately trying to stop himself. And Luna wondered, indeed, what all the fuss was about.

Harry was almost to the first circle of trees. The goblin King kept up the quiet rhythm, stepping away from him back between the oaks. His smile was triumphant as he reached out to him. Harry gave a strangled cry. As he disappeared from view, Harry felt the magic pull weaken just a little. It was his only chance. He turned and bashed his head as hard as he could against the trunk nearest to him. With a sigh, he crumpled at the foot of the tree. The moonlit world winked into darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Super quick recap just reread the last chapter if you need more:** Harry knocked himself out to stop Riddle's magic.

* * *

Luna came to her senses. Feet flying, she dashed to her brother's side, but Tom reached Harry first. He rolled him over, a stream of foreign words issuing emphatically from his lips. Luna flinched, afraid of magical lightning or some other powerful result, but no spell was underway. Tom was just venting his sorely tried feelings in the capable goblin tongue.

"Leave him alone," Luna demanded. Tom paid no attention. He snapped his fingers in the air, and a small silvery globe appeared. It was not as bright as a candle, but it shed a soft light. Tom moved it to a spot about three feet above Harry's face. When he released it, the shining globe hovered obediently in the air.

By its silver light, Luna could see a large, shallow wound across her brother's forehead. Blood was running in a dark stream into his hair and across his closed eyelids, and a shadowed bruise was already spreading under the skin around his eyes. The goblin murmured something under his breath, pressing his fingers into the wound. He pulled them away and wiped Harry's forehead with his cloak. The wound stopped bleeding. Luna watched it closely, but no fresh trickles flowed from it to join the dark tracks congealing in Harry's hair.

The goblin walked away, licking his bloody fingers, and came back a minute later with a small bag in his hand. He knelt again by Harry. Loosening the bag, he scooped out a small quantity of cream and carefully smeared it across the open wound. As he did so, the wound bubbled, flattened, and formed a sudden skin. Within a few seconds, it had healed with only a small scar to show that a wound had been there.

Luna stared open mouthed at the goblin as he applied minute dabs of cream, frowning with deep concentration. As he smoothed the salve down the side of Harry's nose and underneath his eye, the bruise melted back into fair skin. He took a somewhat generous dollop and pressed it onto Harry's forehead over the spot where the wound had been, murmuring something under his breath. Luna watched the cream vanish as if he had driven it through the skin.

Harry began to groan and twitch. Tom quickly caught his face between his hands. He laid all fingers of his right hand on Harry's brow, and he relaxed again into slumber.

"You really can work magic!" breathed Luna, staring at her weird companion in awe. Tom flicked her a glance from those gleaming red eyes and then went on with his work. He ran his fingertips speculatively over Harry's eyes and nose. He ran them along his temples and down his neck. Luna sat back, hugging her knees to her chest, and studied the busy goblin King. Harry was right: He did look pretty frightful. His red eyes belonged on a demon, and his missing nose made him look like a snake. In fact, he looked about as ugly as anything she had ever seen, but Luna was ready to forgive a great deal in someone who could work magic. He didn't seem so ghastly, really. She mulled over what Harry had told her that afternoon and what Molly had said in the clearing.

"Harry says you want him to be your husband," she began.

"That's right," he murmured, applying salve to a bloody knee he had found. Luna watched in excitement as the scab bubbled away. In a few seconds the knee was whole and undamaged. Real magic, right before her eyes.

"But he doesn't want to marry you," she pointed out. Tom had reached the filthy, ragged sock on the foot with no shoe. He pressed his hand on the bottom of Harry's foot and sighed in exasperation, reaching for the salve.

"That doesn't really matter," he remarked inattentively. "The King's Wife is always a captured bride."

"I think that's the most vile thing I ever heard," declared Luna forcefully. So what if he could work magic! "How could you suggest such an awful thing? No wonder Harry doesn't want to marry you!"

Tom paused, cradling the foot in one gray hand, and looked up sharply. "So Harry doesn't want to be my husband," he said, and grinned, showing his sharp, metallic teeth. Luna flinched and decided that he was rather ghastly after all. "Well, young Luna, just what do you suggest I do? The goblin King can't marry his own kind. Should I go about holding hands and making sheep's eyes at farmers' daughter till some girl decides to give goblin life a try? And what if she balks at the first sight of her subjects or panics halfway through the ceremony? Do I peck her a fond kiss farewell and start all over again?" He gave a short laugh at the thought. "A long life my race would have if we Kings behaved like that. No, the King's Wife is always a capture. It's the only prudent way." He went back to his ministrations on the torn-up foot.

Luna considered that this was the most splendidly evil speech she had heard in her whole short life. She was lost in admiration of its appalling wickedness. Then she remembered something.

"You keep saying wife but Harry's a boy. He can't be a wife."

The King sighed. "He can be a wife, but he can't be a mother. Wife, husband, they mean the same. I suppose partner is a better term." He trailed off for a moment. "I am not like the past kings. I am not searching for a strong woman to bear me a stronger son. I have enough magic to live for centuries. With the right partner… we would both be immortal. My magic is telling me that Harry is the one who could be that partner. I always wondered why I was the first homosexual goblin King." The last bit was said mainly to himself.

Luna digested this information. Would Harry even want to be immortal? Then she frowned again, stabbed with a sudden concern.

"But Harry loves being outside under the moon and the stars," she said. "If you marry him, couldn't he at least come out sometimes?"

"No," said Tom flatly. "But he'll settle in. They always do."

"Did your first wife settle in?" asked Luna. Tom fixed her with a glare.

"My first wife went mad," he said abruptly. "Bellatrix didn't believe in goblins." He went back to his work. "I found her by the lakeshore one evening, picking flowers, and I took her home there and then. But it seems the fool's mother had gone mad, and she was always waiting her turn. She fainted during the wedding ceremony, and we never had another lucid word out of her. She believed we were just some sort of dream she was having, a delusion in her mind. It caused her to be cruel and unreasonable. I studied magic tirelessly after that, trying to find a cure, but I found nothing, absolutely nothing, that would touch pure human madness." He shook his head, sharp teeth bared and a look of disgust stamped on his pallid face.

Luna watched the strange creature silently for a moment, thinking about that poor stolen woman. "Harry says he'll never survive it," she insisted anxiously. "He says she knows it'll kill him."

"Is that so?" remarked the goblin, failing to sound impressed. He had concluded the search for injuries. He pressed his long, bony fingers on Harry's forehead again. "And what is he going to die of, exactly?"

Luna told him Mrs. Figg's story about the cold, dank caves under the Hill. She told him about the hideous things that lived there and about the poor goblin brides, their hair turning white and their skin growing gray, nursing their squalling goblin brats in the dripping caverns far from the sun.

Tom chuckled darkly. Reaching up, he extinguished the little orb. Then he turned to Luna. "And you believed her, did you?" he said. "Really, Luna, what a story!"

"But you live underground, don't you?" she persisted.

"We live under the Hill, yes," he affirmed.

"And is it—really awful—in those caves underground?"

"It is more beautiful than you could possibly imagine," he said impatiently.

Luna pondered this statement. More beautiful than she could imagine. She considered the dank backdrop of her gaunt, white-haired goblin bride and added some sparkle to the cave walls. More beautiful still. She put in a subterranean stream and shiny rock formations. More beautiful than that. She sighed and gave it up.

"If you steal Harry, would you steal me, too?" Her voice trembled.

Tom was studying the sleeping Harry. He glanced up and grinned at her. "A little young, aren't you, to be a goblin bride?" he teased. "All ready to have your hair turn even whiter in those dripping caves underground?"

"But you said-" Luna began as Tom chuckled. "Anyway," she concluded unhappily, "he's all the family I have. I just don't want to be left behind."

The goblin stopped laughing. "Molly's right," he remarked. "You have a lot of pluck." A small silence reigned. He was watching the unconscious Harry narrowly, the way the cook watched rising bread or baking pies. Luna wondered what he was looking for. She thought about the dwarf woman and what she had told them.

"Molly says there aren't any more elves," she told him sadly. "Did the goblins kill them all?"

Tom didn't look up from the sleeping Harry. "They destroyed themselves," he answered absently. "They didn't want to survive. We goblins stole elf brides, of course, but that was a good thing for the pretty elves. It gave them unity, something to strive against. Otherwise, they were likely to just wander off in all directions. They always were a little too good for this world." Somehow this didn't sound like a compliment.

"Their last King didn't bother to find a new wife when his first wife died childless. Then he died unexpectedly, and that was the beginning of the end. My great-great-grandfather met with the elves on this very spot and offered to take them in with us. There's a colony of dwarves like that who live under my command. But they said no." Tom snorted. "Catch an elf living underground," he said scornfully.

"We hunted the elf women tirelessly after that, to get the good of the blood before it was all gone. Oh, an elf would tell you quite a tale of woe, with sadness written all across his pretty face. But it wasn't our fault they died out. They did it to themselves. Batty stargazers," he added with relish.

Luna stared around in amazement. Elves and goblins had met right here. She tried to imagine them, beautiful and ugly, tall and short, noble and frightful. No wonder she loved this magical place. Tom watched Harry closely, laying his big hands on either side of his face again. He turned in abrupt decision.

"What I want to know is-" Luna began, but Tom leaned forward swiftly and put his fingers on her brow. Then he caught her as she toppled and laid her down gently in the grass.

"What you want to know is almost everything," he remarked to her sleeping form. Then he turned back to her brother.

Long, dreary hours passed while Harry tossed in unhappy dreams. Finally he sat up in bed with a jerk, jarred out of sleep. He stared around futilely at the thick blackness of the room. Not one ray of light crept in past the curtain. Harry stumbled through the gloom, clutching the furniture, because the room was so dark that he couldn't see where to step. He tried to light his candle, but not even a spark broke the inky darkness around him. Moving by feel, he left his room and edged down the hall. He crept into Luna's room and shook her sleeping form.

"Luna, wake up!" he begged, shaking and shaking, but Luna just flopped limply in his arms like a giant doll. Another fruitless attempt to light Luna's candle and another hideous trip through the dark. He thought he heard a chuckle as he stumbled across the hall. He wrenched open Padma's door and slammed it shut behind him, but Aunt Padma lay like the dead in the darkness, not even breathing. Harry stood in indecision, afraid to touch her. Was that tapping at the window? A twig, or fingers? Harry fled the dark room, leaving his aunt's body behind in the night.

Out in the hall again, he was sure he heard a whisper. It came closer and closer, but no footsteps came with it. Harry began to panic and strike out against the blackness. Clinging to the banister, he sank down on the stairs. The whisper was coming close again, and he couldn't get away. He hid his blind face against his arms and huddled on the stairs, a hunted, trapped animal, all alone in the dark.

"Harry, look at me," Tom said in a commanding voice. He took Harry's hand in his, kneeling beside him. Harry closed his eyes tightly in dread, throwing out a hand to catch at the banister and drag himself away from him. Instead, he felt soft grass, a tree trunk. He opened his eyes. White moonlight flooded in, and the blackness was gone, but the nightmare was still very real. Tom was bending over him. He had caught Harry at last.

"Look at me," Tom ordered again, and Harry looked up into those odd-colored eyes. Tom knelt close by him, still holding his hand in his own. Harry closed his eyes to block out the horrible sight, drawing in shallow breaths.

"And did we have a pleasant sleep?" Tom inquired sweetly. "Nice dreams?" Harry shivered and kept his eyes tightly shut. "No, not a nice dream," the goblin remarked with satisfaction. "So you spent a little time stumbling around in the dark. And no worse than you deserved, either, for smacking yourself into a tree. What an idiotic thing to do, Harry."

Harry's breathing slowed, and he began to remember where he was. He sat up a little unsteadily, pulling away from Tom. He was free of the nightmare, and his mind was beginning to work. He frowned as thoughts began to connect themselves.

Tom studied the sullen face. "No gratitude at all?" he asked. "Not one kind word for patching you up after you tried to batter your brains in?" Harry's hand rose to his forehead, and he felt about for a bump. Then it traveled to his hair and encountered the dried blood. He retraced the track of blood. No break in the skin. No pain, no soreness. All that was left was a scar that seemed to be in the shape of a lightning bolt. He stared at the goblin, eyes round with surprise.

"Harry," he told him seriously, "that was a stupid thing to do. What if I hadn't been here? What if you had died? I lie awake worrying about what's happening to you out here. You could be falling down a well, or breaking a leg, or catching a fever. What if you need my help, and I can't come in time?"

Harry continued to prod his forehead, feeling rather foolish. If the goblin King hadn't been here, he certainly wouldn't have run into the tree. Need his help? Why would he need his help? He couldn't imagine wanting Tom anywhere near him, broken leg or not.

"And what were you doing, anyway, wandering around the woods at night? I wasn't expecting that," he admitted. "I thought you'd be barring yourself in your room or maybe locking yourself in a wardrobe." He chuckled at the thought. "What happened?" he asked, grinning at him. "Did you come looking for me?"

"Of course we weren't looking for you," Harry said warily, moving a little farther away from him. He spied Luna lying in the grass, and his heart almost stopped.

"What did you do to her?" he yelled.

"I answered her questions," Tom said carelessly. "Almost all of them." He leaned back contentedly against a tree trunk. As Harry began to shake his sister, he added, "Leave her alone. She'll wake up when I tell her to." He laughed. "Did you know that she wants to be stolen by goblins? She actually asked me."

Harry's heart sank. The world was going horribly wrong. A few weeks ago he had been sitting with his sister in this very spot under the stars, perfectly happy. Now a grotesque monster was haunting him and menacing him with a terrible future. Poor Luna lay motionless, locked in his magical control. Harry looked down anxiously at her sleeping face. They had to find some way to escape.

"We found out what really happened to Adele Umbridge," he said quietly.

"Oh, really?" asked Tom, interested. "Well, don't look so tragic about it," he smirked as Harry raised his sad eyes to Tom's. "My mother's life was happy enough."

Harry gloomily thought about the unlikely possibility of Adele having had a happy life. What terror and loathing she must have felt, captured by freakish monsters and locked away in a dark cavern far below the earth! An airless tomb, thought Harry in horror. A living tomb from which that bright, brave girl was never able to escape.

"I'm not going down there!" he stated desperately. "I won't go down into those dark caves away from the light, away from the stars. I won't live underground in some ghastly hole, sealed off from the air under mountains of rock."

Tom crossed his arms comfortably and smiled in wry amusement. "Harry," he remarked, "your ignorance is colossal."

Harry stared. How typical! Riddle was just making fun of him. He was threatening the loss of everything Harry loved, and he didn't even care. Tom closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and continued calmly, "If that's what you think my kingdom is like, I certainly know not to ask you to come."

Hope swept through him. "You won't?" he gasped.

Tom opened his eyes again and frowned at his eager expression. "Of course not." He shrugged. "I'll just take you there. No sense in asking."

Harry felt his stomach lurch. His pulse began pounding in his temples.

"No!" he declared emphatically. "I won't let you take me away."

The goblin put his head to one side and grinned at him with his ruby eyes.

"You won't let me? How are you going to stop me? After all," he teased, "you can't bash your head in every night. What if you're too far from a tree?"

Harry jumped to his feet and began to pace, beating his hands together. "There's a way out, I know there's a way!" he cried. "I have to find out what it is."

Tom watched him attentively. "Sit down, Harry," he said.

"After all," Harry observed, stopping and pointing a finger at him, "you don't have me yet." He sat back down on the grass nearby, not even noticing his own obedience. "You haven't been able to catch me," he declared excitedly. "I've stopped you so far."

Tom shouted with laughter.

"You stopped me?" he chuckled. "Stopped me from doing what? Did you lead yourself home when you were lost? Did you tell yourself to go to sleep from the other side of the mirror? You haven't stopped anything. I stopped myself. I didn't want to upset you too much. Human minds are fragile. They don't come back from that kind of shock."

A feeling of despair washed over Harry. He looked down, struggling against tears of frustration.

"I could have put you kicking and screaming on my horse that very first night," he pointed out cheerfully, "but I'm very glad that I didn't because you interest me. You're so terribly determined. I never know what you'll do next."

"So this is all just a joke to you," he accused savagely. "A cat-and-mouse diversion. I've never heard of anything so cruel!"

"Careful," the Tom advised, holding up a hand. "Don't forget logic. If I'm cruel to be patient, what would I be if I had put you on the horse that first night? Compassionate?" He laughed. "Kindly?" Harry glared at him.

"I think you're a monster," he said forcefully. "You're mean and hateful, making a game out of someone else's misery."

The goblin King stopped laughing and studied his pale face. "Do you know, Harry, I believe you're right," he declared. "I am being cruel to you. You seem to be taking this very hard. You're starting to lose sleep and fret about the future, and you're listening to all sorts of ridiculous tales. This kind of delay isn't good for you, either. The sooner it ends, the better."

Harry paused, alarmed. This was not the point he had been trying to make. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. In fact, he was making things worse.

"But I don't want to marry you at all!" he shouted.

"Of course not," Tom agreed. "I never thought you did. There aren't any volunteers to my kingdom, but we try not to let it discourage us." He rose and walked slowly to the center of the tree circle, studying the clear night sky.

"I hope it won't offend you if I leave you now," he remarked pleasantly. "Several matters still need my attention tonight. Since you consider us enemies, I'll guarantee your safe arrival at the Lodge, and since I consider us engaged, I'll provide you with an escort. I'm not going to let you come to harm while you're still outside." He knelt by Luna's sleeping form. As he took her hand in his, she sat up, speaking.

"—how it got to be a truce place, anyway." She looked around. "Oh, hello, Harry's up."

"Yes, and I'm leaving now before he heads for another tree," Tom teased. "I'll tell you about it some other time. Neville will see you home." Then he was gone between the huge black oaks. They heard him give a quiet whistle and speak in a low voice. They heard his horse coming unhurriedly toward him, blowing out its breath. Then came the creaking of leather, the jingle of metal, and hoofbeats moving away.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** Chapters slowing down as I have writers block still. Don't want to risk updating everything and make it so I can't edit previous chapters, but I also don't want to leave you all without updates.

Someone asked me about Harry's age, and while I will be going back and adding it to chapter one, I will also just say it here. Harry is 16 and Luna is 14-15.

* * *

Harry realized that he had been sitting in the same position for some time. He climbed stiffly to his feet, terribly tired.

The huge black cat moved silently through the trees to join them. "Hello," he piped in a warm, friendly voice. "The King says I'm to walk you to the Lodge." Harry jumped and gasped, feeling abruptly that he did have weak nerves, but Luna yelped in delight.

"Oh, Neville!" she cried. "You clever cat! You can talk!"

The large feline sat down. "Well," he said in an abashed tone, "I'm not really a regular cat." He turned his round eyes with their huge black pupils on Harry. "Are you ready to leave now?" he trebled politely.

Harry swung his arms, hesitating. It was still nighttime, or at any rate very early morning. He hated to leave the safety of the tree circle.

"I don't know, Luna," he said cautiously to his sister. "Maybe we should stay here until the sun comes up."

"You don't need to worry," Neville assured him earnestly. "I just look like a big cat, but I can protect you with magic. The King wouldn't have made me your escort if he didn't think I could handle the job." Harry detected a note of bewilderment in this last statement.

"Yes, well," he demurred, trying not to think about the extreme peculiarity of debating courses of action with a giant cat. "I'm not questioning your ability to protect us from ordinary dangers. I'm more afraid of your King than of anything else out there."

"Oh, you didn't hear him say he was going back to the Hill?" said the cat. Harry had a swift mental image of Tom sitting on some rough-hewn rock throne, maybe with spears crossed over it, presiding over a drunken revel of hooting goblin warriors.

"But what if he didn't really mean it?" he asked warily.

There was a tiny silence. The huge cat's pupils contracted in surprise, the round golden eyes full on him.

"You think the King lied?" Neville asked horrified.

Startled, Harry opened his mouth to answer and then shut it again. He thought of his goblin tormenter as his own private nemesis to rail against and loathe, almost like a monster he had invented himself. The idea of his having an outside existence, a reputation, and loyal friends had simply never occurred to him. He felt very peculiar.

"I—I—well, why don't you lead?" he stammered apologetically, and then fell into an embarrassed silence as they walked away from the old oak trees.

Luna walked beside the huge cat, admiring his thick black fur. "I had a cat where we lived before," she chattered, "a big ragdoll one. He was wonderfully fluffy, like a soft winter blanket. I miss him terribly. He had green eyes. I hope he's happy with the cook. She always gave him butter because she said it was good for a cat's coat. Is it? Could you always talk? Do all goblin cats talk?"

"I think butter's good for everybody," Neville avowed seriously. "I have a cat, too, a white one with blue eyes. She spits at me when I try to talk to her in cat. Cats can't really talk, at least I can't understand them when they do, except when they say things like 'feed me' or 'get away.' Some of the real cat goblins act like they can understand more. Oh!" he said as Luna tripped on a tree root. "I forgot you can't see well. Here"—and rearing back on his hind legs, he made a motion with his right paw. Harry was amazed to see a small silver orb appear in the air. It cast its faint radiance like a captive moonbeam on the shadowed path around them.

"Oh, Neville, you can do it, too!" Luna cried, enchanted with the reappearance of her favorite trick. The cat reared back on his hind legs again and gently batted the shining globe from one paw to the other, clearly enjoying the attention. The light threw silver ripples down his thick, sleek coat as it bobbed back and forth in the air.

"That's elf magic," he said proudly. "The King taught me how to do it, and nobody in the whole kingdom can do it but me and the King. Isn't it pretty? It's a little moon. Of course, it's not good for much when the moon's just a sliver because it's a sliver, too, and you don't get anything at all when the moon is new. That's how elf magic generally is. It's pretty to look at, but it doesn't really get you anywhere. I know lots. Do you want to see some more?"

At Luna's enthusiastic confirmation, he winked out the globe, and black shadow swallowed up the path. "I did that because this looks better in the dark," he explained. The huge cat held out his paws and swiftly tapped the path before them, shrilling out a few words of command. Nothing happened for a second. Then a soft glow emanated from the ground at Neville's feet as a tiny silver plant broke through the earth. Gracefully unwinding and arching through the air, it grew rapidly into a bush with shining silver leaves. Buds formed at the ends of its delicate branches and blossomed into a mass of shimmering golden lilies. The leaves rustled musically in the night breeze, and as the lilies swayed to and fro they tinkled like a collecton of tiny bells. Harry and Luna stared open mouthed, completely captivated by the plant's beauty.

"That's my best one yet," piped the cat. "The King says I do it even better than he does, but they don't always turn out this good. It must be because the moon's close to full. Elf magic generally strengthens with the moon. That's sort of silly if you think about it because you can't really count on the moon." The cat waved his paw through the unearthly apparition, and the glorious plant disintegrated into a sparkly snowfall. In a few seconds, its shining particles vanished with a quiet whisper, and they were in darkness again. The cat relit his tiny moon and started down the path, the silver globe bobbing along just above his right shoulder.

"I can do more than elf magic, of course," he added, padding along. "I'm good at goblin magic, too. It's lots more practical, like if you need to fight somebody or open a locked door. But I can't do any dwarf magic. Dwarf magic depends on stones, and they can tell if you're not dwarf. I'm not dwarf at all. The King can do some even though he doesn't look dwarf. Molly does dwarf magic a lot, and the real dwarves do it without even thinking. It's how they carry their loads and do their building and making. They're such little people, but they can do more with stone and metal than any giant ever could. They can just make the earth do anything." Harry remembered Molly bolting them to the ground, sticking them into place as if they had grown roots.

"Couldn't you teach me how to do a little magic?" Luna begged as she trotted to keep up with the cat. Neville laid his ears back a little.

"I don't think so," he said apologetically, "not if you're just human. Humans don't have any real magic. Molly says they don't need it. They live just like cattle, chewing up the land and raising herds of babies. Everybody knows they're God's favorites; they already get everything their own way. The only thing humans do that is sort of like magic, is make a goblin more human looking and make it easier for any offspring to breed. Elf magic could do the same but also much more. Elves and goblins got their magic from the First Fathers, and dwarves say they're related to rocks, so they just know how to ask rocks to behave. Molly says there's some humans who talk with the demons and get them to do things, but she says that's not magic, that's stupid, because demons always make sure they get paid better than they work."

The trees began to thin as they came within sight of the Lodge. All its windows were dark. Neville immediately put out the little moon.

"I'll be right here if you need me," he told them. "I'm glad it's not raining anymore. I have to look just like a regular cat all the time when I'm outside. We're not allowed to attract attention. Humans would think it was funny if they saw a dry cat sitting in the rain."

As he thanked the cat politely, Harry felt his head beginning to hurt. He was a little overwhelmed by all the help he had received that night from goblins. There was something deeply wrong in these unnatural monsters rallying around him, if only because the most urgent help he needed was some means to escape them. It made it very hard for him to decide how to battle them when they kept rushing to his aid. It was beginning to make him feel rather ridiculous.

Luna was feeling no such qualms. Tonight was without question the most thrilling evening she had ever had. Of course, she could understand Harry's outraged feelings about being a potential forced marriage—after all, who wanted to be married?—but goblin life obviously had its advantages. Pets, for instance. Even Neville was allowed to have a cat, and for heaven's sake, he was one himself! And he could work magic, too. Luna felt a pang of envy. All she could do was embroidery. A lot of good that would do her if she ever had to open a locked door. Nor could she imagine people standing around marveling at a display of needlework.

Considering her lack of magical abilities, Luna decided it was a good thing that the Lodge doors were never locked. Harry and Luna slipped inside and tiptoed up the stairs. Harry felt like lying down on his bed without even changing clothes, he was so tired, but instead he involved Luna in a whispered council of war. Luna told him what had happened while Harry was unconscious, and Harry told her about the goblin King's decision to bring things to a swift conclusion.

"This is it, Luna, I know it," he said urgently. "This is my last chance, and we have to make it work. We haven't tried to escape on foot. We might make it."

Luna thought about this for a second. Then she sighed, thinking of her soft bed.

"All right. Where are we going to go?" she asked gloomily.

Harry shot her a swift look of gratitude. "I don't know yet. We'll just go as far away as we can. Maybe we can get off goblin land in one day if we start early."

Luna looked extremely skeptical. "We can't even walk as far as Hollow Lake in one day," she pointed out, "and Tom said he stole his wife by the lakeshore."

Harry shivered at the thought of the poor mad bride. "We'll go the other direction, away from the Hill, and we won't bring anything but a picnic basket so we can avoid attracting attention. Go tidy up, Luna, and put on a clean dress. We can't walk down a country road with blood and dirt all down our fronts. But don't light a candle, or Neville will call the others. And don't wake up the aunts!"

Luna slipped out, and Harry changed quickly, wadding up the old clothes and stuffing it under his bed. Then he put on clean pants and picked out his other pair of shoes. He remembered losing one of his favorite pair in the woods. This was the second shirt in a week, too, that he had destroyed in midnight scrambles. He surveyed the meager choices left in his wardrobe and sent bitter thoughts in Tom's direction. Then he splashed water into his washbowl and washed the blood out of his hair. By the light of the setting moon, he surveyed his scarred forehead in the mirror. His earlier inspections proved true as he looked at the lightning bolt permanently etched in his skin.

Luna tiptoed back in, carrying her shoes. She made a face when she saw Harry.

"Why are you wearing that nasty grey thing?" she wanted to know. "It's way too big, and makes you look like you're wearing an old flour sack."

Harry felt that this was just the sort of comment calculated to undo his resolve. "I have far more serious things to consider than my appearance," he declared a little tragically. "I'm really beyond those sorts of petty concerns right now."

"That's good," said Luna. Then she brightened. "I know. If Tom sees you looking like that, maybe he'll change his mind." Harry didn't see any reason to honor this with a reply. He grabbed his shoes and headed down to the kitchen. He pulled out a small wicker basket and piled some provisions into it.

"Let's go," he whispered. "It's already dawn. We'll leave by the front door. If Neville's still where he said he would be, we can keep the house between us."

In a few minutes, they were hurrying down the gravel track through a rustling, dewy meadow, the forested hills to their backs now and the fields before them. Somewhere on these fields, Harry remembered with a sinking heart, the goblins had kept watch around their bonfire. He wondered just how far their magical kingdom extended.

The exhausted siblings stumbled along the pebbly track, stepping on their long shadows as the red sun rose over the Hill behind them. Harry's shoes were cracked at the toes, and his feet began to ache. He tried to turn over the events of the night in his mind, but it all began to run together and change. He was arguing with Tom. He was yelling at Tom, and Tom was laughing. Molly came and looked at his palm, telling Harry to be careful. "I see danger in this hand," she said, her brown eyes huge, "from someone very close to you."

Someone very close. Harry came out of his doze with a start. He heard the clopping of horses' hooves coming along fast behind them. Swiftly he grabbed the sagging Luna by the arm and glanced around for cover. There was none to be had. They were in the middle of a mowed field with not so much as a rock wall in reach. Harry's heart pounded as he whirled to face his enemy. What right, he thought furiously, did Riddle have to be out during the day?

The dogcart bowled into sight over a slight ridge. The old mare stopped a few feet from them and dropped her head, blowing heavily. Dolores Umbridge climbed down from the seat, her toad like face brick red with anger.

"Mister Potter," she remarked heatedly, "you are quite beyond our ability to handle."

She drove the siblings to the Hall in silence. Luna fell asleep on the way.

"Come with me, Mister Potter," she ordered, leaving the cart at the door. Harry climbed down and looked back at his sleeping sister, a lump in his throat. I've lost my last chance to escape, he thought. I won't see Luna again, and now I can't even say good-bye.

His guardian led him down the hall to one of the bedrooms. "I'm leaving you in here," she told him. "Ring if you need anything." Harry stared aghast at the elegant bedroom. It was on the ground floor, facing the dense forest of the Hill, and it opened out onto the shaded terrace via a pair of double doors. Almost the whole wall by the terrace was window, covered with lacy curtains.

"How long will I be staying here?" he demanded anxiously. His guardian paused in the doorway.

"I don't exactly know," she said ponderously. "I feel you are now a danger to yourself and to your sister. You'll have to stay in here until we can decide what to do about you. Padma and Parvati cannot deal with you at the Lodge."

Harry could just imagine a whole army of monsters assembling in the woods outside those double doors. At twilight they would come bursting in and haul him away, their weird goblin chieftain in the lead.

"Mrs. Umbridge," he begged, "please don't leave me in this room! At least put me on the second floor or in a room that doesn't face the forest. There must be bedrooms that are safer than this."

"Safer from goblins?" Dolores Umbridge asked sardonically, and Harry knew that the argument was over. He heard her lock the door as she left.

Exhausted and frustrated, Harry flung himself down on the bed to think. Ever since he had asked for his guardian's help, things had gotten worse and worse. She had practically accused him of insanity in front of his aunts, she had instructed them to throw him out of the house after dark, and now she had locked him up in a room perfect for goblin attack. Short of delivering him tied up to the goblins' front door, Harry couldn't think of anything worse she could do. Of course, he concluded miserably, she would say that she just wanted him to face his fears. He was pretty sure that was exactly what he would be doing once twilight came again.

Harry devoted some time to escaping, but the large, opulent room thwarted his attempts. He could find no way to pry open either windows or doors. The windows were nailed shut, and they held many small diamonds of glass cemented together by lead strips. He wasn't sure he could batter his way out with a chair even if he could risk the noise. The doors onto the terrace fastened together with a heavy bolt that slid between them, and the key was gone from the lock. Yet he knew that his solid prison posed not the least problem for the goblin King. Even his magical cat knew how to open locked doors.

The day passed very slowly. Harry tried hard not to think about what twilight would bring. Restless and lonely, he wandered about and studied the various diversions the room had to offer. Outside was a beautiful day. He stood for a long time at the window, watching the sun dapple the terrace. It's my last chance to see sunlight, he thought miserably. My very last chance.

When his guardian brought lunch, Harry refused to speak to her. He was finished giving her ideas on how to make him face his fears. If she was too well educated to believe in goblins, he wasn't going to change her mind. Tired out from worry and all the late nights, he lay down on the bed and fell into a doze. When he awoke, the room was filled with the shadows of twilight. Harry jumped up in a panic. What was it he had said to Molly? Handed over like a sack of potatoes. He couldn't bear it. He had to do something, he just had to!

How would the goblins attack him? They wouldn't hesitate to invade the house if they could do so undetected. They would doubtless make sure that he was unable to raise an alarm, and the easiest way to do that was to make sure that he was asleep. The King seemed to control sleep with a magical ease. Harry doubted he would even wake up until he was underground.

How could he raise an alarm if he were asleep? Harry looked about for inspiration. A large crystal lamp stood on a table by the hall door. If he could pull the lamp down as he was being taken out, it would make a substantial crash.

Harry quickly went to work. His light was going fast, and the shadows beneath the trees were getting thicker and blacker. He hastily ripped some long strips of cloth from his too large shirt that had so offended Luna's taste. It made a cloth rope about six feet long. He tied one end tightly around the base of the crystal lamp, then dropped the improvised rope over the side of the table and pulled it underneath. He brought a pillow from the bed and lay down next to the hall door. Then he tied the other end of his cloth lifeline to his ankle. Now if he moved away from his spot by his end of the table, the lamp would be tugged off its resting place and crash to the floor a few feet away.

Harry huddled in a furious pitch of suspense for the attack. He was as far as he could be from those ominous double doors, and he felt well rested and alert. Maybe he could raise the alarm before the doors were even open. When they came, he thought excitedly, they would find him ready to meet them.

 _Go to sleep, Harry_. And that was that. One minute he was wide awake, waiting for the first hint of trouble. The next minute he was locked in a profound slumber. The doors swung open to let in the quiet sounds of the deepening twilight, but Harry slept on, trapped in a dreamless darkness beyond any possibility of action.

A loud knocking sounded on the door right above his head.

"Mister Potter," said Dolores Umbridge through the door, "a visitor has just arrived and is anxious to meet you. I'll give you a few minutes, and then I'd like you to join us."

Harry opened his eyes and stared straight into the glowing red eyes of the goblin King. Tom crouched over him in the dusky gloom. He already had his arms around Harry, about to lift him from the floor. Tom froze, glancing toward the door as Harry's guardian delivered her message. Harry tensed to shout, but Tom absently laid a finger across his lips, and Harry found himself unable to make a sound. As he twisted his head from side to side, trying to find his voice, he saw the goblin grin in amusement. Harry glared up at him frantically and jerked his foot as hard as he could, yanking the lamp to the floor just beyond them. It hit the stone with a terrific smash, spraying Tom's back with crystal shards. He turned, startled, to locate the source of the sound.

"Mister Potter, what are you doing?" Dolores Umbridge called through the door. "What's happening in there?" But Harry was still unable to yell for help. Tom tightened his grip on him. This is when he drags me away, Harry thought feverishly. In another second, he'll have me unconscious, and I'll wake up underground. Harry struck at him as hard as he could, clawing and fighting to break free.

"Mister Potter, answer me. What's going on?"

Tom had a number of solutions at his disposal, but it is hard to think or work magic while under attack. Harry raked his nails across Tom's head. When Tom grabbed the offending hand, Harry twisted and got an elbow into Tom's chest. He threw out an arm and banged the door. As Tom raised his hand to touch Harry's forehead, he sank his teeth as hard as he could into Tom's thumb.

"That's it, Mister Potter. I'm coming in there."

Tom pushed Harry away and sprang to his feet. Harry scrambled to sit up and banged into the door, throwing his head back to look at him. The goblin's face was twisted in a snarl of fury, his sharp teeth were bared, and his eyes blazed in the twilit room with an unnatural brightness. He raised his arms in front of him, the spidery fingers pointing out rigidly, dark drops clinging to his bleeding thumb. Harry ducked his head instinctively, bracing for the lightning, or worse, that would follow. He felt the hall door push against him, but he couldn't move for terror. The enraged goblin flicked out his hands, the fingers pointing away from him, and moved them apart in a slow, deliberate circle of the room. Pictures sprang from the walls. Knickknacks and vases leapt from the furniture. Bookshelves overturned. The wastebasket upended. The room was filled with the sound of smashing, splintering, and crashing, and the air was filled with flying debris. Tom glared down at Harry, his pallid face haughty, as Harry cringed and shielded his eyes from the exploding fragments. Then Tom spun on his heel and walked rapidly from the room. As he passed through the open doors, he made a casual gesture. The doors slammed shut behind him with an unearthly force, and the glass from the whole expanse of window fractured and fell in.

Harry staggered to his feet and watched him disappear into the shadow of the trees as the hall door swung open behind him. Dazed, he looked around at the wreckage. Twisted picture frames and powdered ceramic covered the floor. Books cascaded out of broken shelves, and bits of window glass spangled the Oriental rug.

"Extraordinary!" he heard a voice murmur behind him. Harry turned to find two people standing in the doorway, staring at the scene before them with open mouths. His guardian, her toad face bloodless, clutched the door frame with both stubby hands. As his gaze fell on them, she made an attempt to push herself upright.

"Mister Potter," she said, her voice unsteady, "meet Dr. Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Westcross Asylum."

Harry turned around again and looked out at the black forest, delighted and amazed. He had faced the goblin King alone and had beaten him! He had been set out like bait in a trap with no friends, no weapon, and no magic, and he was still standing free in the moonlight while Tom headed back to his horrible caves. He wanted to whoop and shriek, to yell insults into the darkening night. Instead, he calmly turned around and faced the two adults.

"There's been some kind of explosion," he said, studying the doctor with cool curiosity. "Look, the windows blew in. Do the rooms next to this one have broken windows, too?"

Dolores Umbridge didn't seem to have heard the question. She had wandered a few steps into the room and was staring around in shock. Harry felt a smug amusement. If his pompous guardian found a little thing like this so upsetting, he could just imagine the look on her face if she saw the goblin King himself.

"I don't think we know," said the doctor briskly. "Mrs. Umbridge, why don't we check the other rooms for damage?" His guardian glanced around distractedly and followed the doctor out. As soon as they left, Harry bent and untied the knot from his ankle. He was just standing up and surveying the ripped cloth when Mrs. Figg appeared in the doorway.

"What happened?" she gasped. Harry attempted to tie the cloth around his waist.

"I don't know, Mrs. Figg," he said calmly. "Some kind of explosion. The adults were just checking on things."

The housekeeper's face sagged. She turned frightened eyes on Harry.

"It's _them_ , isn't it, that did it?" she whispered darkly.

Harry patted the torn cloth into place and strolled past the housekeeper into the lighted hall.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," he replied.

Later, sitting in the study, he sipped his tea and surveyed his new combatants with serene assurance. He had just defeated a goblin with his own bare hands. The head doctor of a lunatic asylum couldn't possibly frighten him now.

Actually, Dr. Shacklebolt didn't look very frightening. He didn't look as if he would want to be. A fit, dark-skinned man of around forty, he had an agreeable, fatherly face and seemed interested in everything. Harry would have loved to tell him about his fight with Tom. Dr. Shacklebolt would have found Tom fascinating. But he had no desire to be locked up in an insane asylum, so the truth would have to wait until he was alone with Luna.

"The other rooms weren't damaged in the slightest," Dr. Shacklebolt was saying. "Have you any idea what might have caused it, Mister Potter?"

"None at all," Harry answered readily. "I went to the door to respond to your knock. Then there was a devastating crash, and I hid my face and tumbled to the floor. Could it have been a prank, do you think? One of the stable boys playing with gunpowder or coal dust? I hope no one blew a hand off!"

Harry's guardian stared at him. "I don't know," she said unsteadily. "I'd rather not discuss it now. Mister Potter, I've been to see Dr. Shacklebolt about you, and he very much wanted to meet you. He's interested in your goblin visitor."

"Oh, do you study goblins?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know much about them," admitted the doctor with a smile.

"Then we'd better call Mrs. Figg," Harry suggested. "She can tell all sorts of wonderful tales about them. Did you know that her grandparents actually believed goblins existed? Elves, too. Isn't that charming?" He smiled at the adults. They stared back, a little nonplussed.

"Now, wait just a minute, Mister Potter," said Dolores Umbridge with a frown. "I just heard a story from your sister this afternoon stuffed chock-full of goblins. The goblin King was coming to drag you away."

Harry fixed his guardian with a surprised stare. "And you believed her?" he asked in astonishment. The doctor turned his interested eyes from him to Umbridge, whose pale cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"Mister Potter," Dolores said sweetly, "you yourself said you were in terrible danger, and you begged me to send you away. You said the goblins were coming to drag you off, just like Adele Umbridge in the story."

Harry shrugged. He wished that Tom were there to see him. If lying was for humans, then by all means, let him lie.

"But I never thought you'd believe it," he said artlessly. "I thought adults knew that goblins couldn't exist."

His guardian rose from her chair and began pacing the floor. "What about that strange creature you saw the night of the storm? What about your hysterical dash through the door? Padma and Parvati practically had to revive you."

"I certainly didn't invent that," Harry assured them. He turned to Dr. Shacklebolt. "My sister Luna and I got lost in a stormy night, and we stumbled onto a camp of Gypsies. An old woman told my fortune for me, and a Gypsy guided us home. He told us all kinds of terrible stories as we walked through the night, and he was entirely muffled in a black cloak and hood. When we arrived at the house, he pulled back the hood so I could see his face. Now, Aunt Padma says that if I saw him during the day, I would have thought he looked strange, but after that frightening walk and all those stories, I was terrified. It seems funny now. In fact," he added bitterly, "I know he enjoyed scaring me into fits." He smiled at Dr. Shacklebolt, who chuckled. His guardian looked thunderstruck.

"But what about the nightmares?" she demanded angrily, pacing before the fireplace. "What about staying out all night? What about running away from home?"

"I can't deny the nightmares," Harry answered. He turned to the doctor. "I know they worried my poor great-aunts. They're quite unused to the trials of parenthood. All three of my guardians are new to children, you know. And it's true that we were away from home late last night. My aunts and Mrs. Umbridge decided it would be good for my nerves to walk from one house to the other in the dark. Of course, we protested quite vehemently. You have to remember the shocking Gypsy we'd met just a couple of nights before. He could have been roaming the woods. And as a matter of fact, we were chased."

"By goblins," suggested Umbridge, looking over her charge meaningfully.

"No!" insisted Harry, frowning at her as if she were a slow pupil. "We were chased by a couple of hum- I mean, farm boys, out for a moonlight ride. They must have been playing a joke on us. Maybe they knew you and the aunts were going to send us out on a ghost walk." He looked at his guardian, and Dr. Shacklebolt did as well. Suddenly and inexplicably, Dolores Umbridge's blush deepened to a dull, unhealthy red.

"We lost them at the tree circle," continued Harry, "and we rested there to catch our breath. It was so beautiful and peaceful there under the moon and stars." He paused, remembering the unholy purple lightning and whipping winds. "I'm afraid we just fell asleep. When we woke up, it was so late that we went back to the Lodge because it was closer, and the aunts were already in bed. But I don't know why you thought we tried to run away. We were just heading out to the meadow with a picnic basket."

Dr. Shacklebolt turned to Harry's guardian. "They had only a picnic basket?" he asked. "No clothes, no belongings?"

Dolores Umbridge looked as if Harry had personally insulted her. "Mister Potter, I warn you," she said, gasping with rage. "I know you're lying, and you know it, too. You know you believe in goblins, and you know you aren't rational about them!" She glared at Dr. Shacklebolt. "He isn't! He isn't rational! He's insane!"

Harry stared at the toad like woman in complete amazement. He had never seen her so angry before. She'd been worried that he was making a break with reality, but she didn't seem at all pleased that he'd rejoined it. He fell silent, unwilling to embarrass her with any more lies. Dr. Shacklebolt looked from the enraged woman to the astonished young man, and his gaze turned thoughtful.

"Mrs. Umbridge," he said soothingly, "I'm very glad you've asked me to come tonight, and I'm enjoying the conversation immensely, but I think it would help my examination of your ward if we had a few moments alone."

Dolores Umbridge subsided and left the room. Dr. Shacklebolt turned his kind eyes on Harry.

"Mister Potter," he said thoughtfully, "your story does make a certain sense, but Mrs. Umbridge mentioned other factors that are hard to explain as high spirits and pretend games: poor sleep, loss of appetite, and a feeling of being watched. In spite of your cheerfulness, you do appear rather thin and pale. I can see that your guardian would be a little difficult to confide in." He chose his words with care. "Is there anything that you would like to tell me about? Anything that's been troubling you?"

Harry squirmed a little. It was one thing to lie to Umbridge, whom he disliked. It was quite another thing to lie to this friendly, likable man. But he was a doctor who worked with insane patients. If he told him about Tom, he would decide that his asylum was the best place for Harry to be.

"You know I lost my parents a few months ago," he began.

"Of course," Dr. Shacklebolt said gently. "It must have been a terrible shock, and yet they tell me that when you first came here, you were doing very well. Your problems didn't start until later."

"Did my guardian tell you that she's not really related to me?" he asked sadly. "I am the result of an adoption several generations back. We supplanted Mrs. Umbridge's side of the family, and she's quite bitter about it." He sighed. "She probably didn't think it was important when she told me that story, but my nightmares and poor appetite started then. It hurt to find out that I have no real family left, and that an adoption like that of my sister had caused such bitterness in the past."

Dr. Shacklebolt leaned back and nodded gravely. "I was afraid of something like this," he said. "It explains a great deal. Mister Potter, I don't think you need to worry about insanity. You seem to be facing your problems very well. I can't help feeling disappointed, though," he added, smiling ruefully. "When I saw the wreckage in that bedroom tonight, I really thought I was on to something."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"I help people who are insane," he declared, "but I do look for special cases. You see, there's so much about the mind that we don't understand. Sometimes, in great stress, people do things that are well beyond their physical powers, and sometimes insane people do them, too. It's as if, not knowing what reality is supposed to be, they can go beyond those limits that we accept for ourselves."

"Do you mean they can work magic?" Harry wanted to know.

"Well," chuckled Dr. Shacklebolt, "I suppose you could call it that. I would say that they can do the extraordinary and inexplicable because they accept it as part of their world. For instance, we have a woman in the asylum who thinks she's a rabbit. I have had specialists study how far she can jump. It's amazing to watch. Another patient thinks she's two completely different people. She crushed her foot one day, and we found her walking around on this badly damaged foot normally and without the least sign of pain. Why? Because she claimed that the other of her two selves had broken her foot. The person she was at the moment was perfectly well."

Harry smiled. "So when you saw all the broken glass and torn-up furniture, you thought that I had done it," he said. Dr. Shacklebolt nodded. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. I didn't do it, and I don't think I could do it, either."

Several hours later, Harry snuggled down comfortably in bed. Yes, he was still at the Hall, and yes, his indignant guardian had locked him in again. He was once more in a ground-floor bedroom with double doors leading onto the terrace. The designers of the Hall's fashionable newer wing hadn't exhibited much creativity from one room to the next. But he and Dr. Shacklebolt had talked until early in the morning, and a new day was not far off. He had vanquished two different enemies on two very different fields of battle. Neither one was gone for good, but that was a problem for tomorrow. Today had been simply glorious, and he would take care of tomorrow when it came.

A knock at the door roused him in the late morning, and Dolores Umbridge entered the room. But this was not the pompous woman he had infuriated the night before. Her eyes were large and grave, and her manner was uncertain.

"Mister Potter, I'm terribly sorry," she said hesitantly. "I realize now that I should have believed you. You said you were in danger, but I never dreamed it might be real." Harry sat up, alarmed.

"I'm afraid it's your sister," she explained awkwardly. "Luna has completely vanished."


End file.
